


Only In The Darkness

by SylvieT



Category: A Star is Born (2018)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2019-08-20 03:39:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 136,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16548149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvieT/pseuds/SylvieT
Summary: I'm rewriting the ending of the film.Jackson doesn't die.





	1. Chapter 1

As soon as she'd finished her rendition of _Shallow_ and the applause erupted, Ally stood up from the piano, turned toward her audience and with tears in her eyes bowed her head in thanks. Her hands were shaking and she balled them into fists behind her back. She didn't know how she'd made it through the song without breaking down, was grateful she'd been at the piano and able to hide her emotion. She'd felt breathless throughout, still did now, not because of the set she'd just performed but because of her fear for Jackson.

Fear gripped her mind, her chest, clenching at her heart. He'd been so down, so quiet when she'd left him earlier that evening, barely responsive when she'd told him that the rest of the tour had been cancelled. Tonight was the last night, and he'd said he would come and sing _Shallow_ with her, share in this moment. He promised he'd be there. She had been looking forward to playing with him again, to singing with him and making one with him again on stage. How long had it been since the last time they'd done that?

Fear made way to anger. _Why_ wasn't he there by her side, she asked herself? Why hadn't he come? What good reason could he possibly have for not showing up? She'd reached out to him, given him a lifeline, and he hadn't bothered to show. Her eyes filled, but she straightened up anyway and looked at the crowd, her fans, on their feet now as they clapped and cheered her, calling for an encore. She gave them all a tremulous smile, touching her trembling hands in front of her in more thanks, before hurrying backstage. Rez was talking on the phone animatedly.

"Is that Jack on the phone?" she asked, cutting into his conversation as she scanned watery eyes over the faces of all the people milling around backstage for that of Jackson's. "You talking to Jack?"

Rez lifted a hand, silencing her, and giving his head a shake in reply to her question quickly wound up his call.

"You spoke to him?" she asked as soon as he'd hung up. "Where is he? Has something happened?"

Rez opened his hands matter-of-factly. "I called, but he didn't pick up. I left a message."

"You checked the dressing room? Maybe he's there. Maybe he came and like you said it all got too much for him."

"I don't think so."

She craned her neck, looking over the equipment, the crew, still searching for Jackson. "Anyone seen Jack?" she called to anyone and everyone. "Jackson, my husband?"

"He's not here, Ally," Rez said, taking her elbow and leading her back toward the stage. "He hasn't come." He paused, smiled. "Forget about Jack for now, and enjoy this moment." He raised his hand in the air, palm up, indicating the stage and crowd beyond. "Listen to the crowd. Listen to your fans. They adore you."

Ally's tears returned, and she shook her head, dismissing his words. Her fans, the concert, her career, none of it mattered right now. She glanced at his hand still holding the cell. "Give me your phone," she said, breathless, and then in a loud, desperate bark, not caring who heard her as she made to grab his cell, "Give me your fucking phone!"

"No," Rez replied, coolly, keeping the cell out of reach. "Can't you hear them, Ally? Your fans are calling you. They want more. Hear their words. They want an encore. You got to give it to them."

"No, Rez." She made to leave, but Rez kept her in place. "I got to talk to Jack first, see if he's okay."

"Jack's fine, Ally," Rez repeated forcefully, lifting both hands to her shoulders and staring at her straight in the eyes. His expression darkened, his next words coming out in a whisper and through gritted teeth. "Jack can fucking wait while you give your fans what you owe them."

Ally twisted out of Rez's grasp angrily. "I'm not going back out there. Not until I've spoken to Jack."

Rez looked at his cell, then with a short, impatient breath unlocked it and tapped his fingers a couple of times on the screen before handing it over to her. "Get the band to play on," he then instructed in a shout, while cell to her ear Ally waited anxiously for Jack to pick up the phone, "She'll be two minutes. Two minutes everyone." When he met her gaze again his eyes were cold, steely. "Two fucking minutes and then you get your arse back out there."

The band started up just as the answerphone kicked in. "Jack? It's me, Ally," she said, after the beep, bringing the phone closer to her ear. "Pick up. Jack, pick up please. I'm worried about you. Jack?"

She sighed, waited a beat, before finally hanging up when she realised he wasn't there. At a loss, she looked at the phone, then at Rez and all the people around her, but it was Jack she wanted, him she needed with her. She just needed to know he was all right. Rez held out his hand for the cell. Defeated, deflated, she was about to give it to him when she thought better of it and dialled Bobby's number.

"Ally—" Rez said in a warning tone, "We haven't got time for this. Everyone's waiting for you. What's another ten minutes anyway?"

Ally was giving Rez a dark look when Bobby picked up. "Who's this? And how did you get this number?"

In the background, the band was playing _Why Did You Do That?_ while the crowd chanted "Ally, Ally," at the top of their voices, distracting her, making Bobby's voice barely audible.

"Bobby, it's me, Ally," she said, barely keeping it together. "You seen Jack? Is he with you?"

"Jack? No. I thought he was with you."

"Did you speak with him at all tonight?" she asked, choking up.

"No, not since I dropped him off this afternoon. Why do you ask?"

"He was supposed to come on stage with me tonight, sing _Shallow_ with me one last time. He didn't show and isn't picking up the phone. I—I can't get a hold of him, Bobby. I'm worried about him. I'm worried something's happened, and—"

"Ally, calm down."

"—and Rez won't let me leave and—"

"Listen to me," Bobby said forcefully, cutting her off. "You go and finish your concert and I'll go find him. Alright? I'm going to get in the truck right now and drive to your place. He's probably out back with Charlie and he didn't hear the phone. Lost track of time. Wouldn't be the first time."

"You think so?" she asked, wiping at her tears, hope in her voice.

"You get back out there and finish your set. Knock it out of the park, girl. I'll call as soon as I've found him."

* * *

Bobby tried to keep the worry out of his voice as he spoke to Ally so as not to panic her further but he knew in his heart, in his soul, that something bad had happened. He should have known really, should have seen it coming. Jack saying what he'd said to him, that afternoon after he'd given him a ride home, well, that was out of character. Almost felt like a goodbye. But Jack had been doing better after rehab, he'd stayed off the booze and the pills, or so Bobby thought anyway.

Bobby believed he'd do it this time. If not for himself, then for Ally. He really thought he'd turned a corner. But who was he to know what went on in Jack's head? He'd tried helping him in the past, over and over again, and every time he'd been met with contempt and disregard. Still, Jack was his brother, his only family, and he looked out for him. As best he could. And now, as he sped down the highway and then down the dark, dirt road to Jack's house, he had a sense of foreboding so deep he knew he would find a body. All he prayed for was that he'd get there before Ally did. Because it would destroy her.

The house and garage were in darkness when he got there, stopping with a squeal of tyres alongside Jack's truck. He left his truck's headlights on, his door open as he rushed to the house. He rang the doorbell and banged his fist on the door, tried the handle, all the while calling Jack's name. The door opened. He was rushing in when Charlie appeared behind him, whining and whimpering, and Bobby stopped dead in his tracks. The lump in his throat was thick, unbudging.

He bent down, ruffled the dog's hair, faked a levity he was far from feeling as he addressed the dog. "Charlie, my boy, where's Jack? Where's Daddy, huh? Is he home, passed out some place?"

Charlie gave a bark, then tail beating wildly turned around, quickly headed back out of the front door. Bobby followed him at a slow jog, finally stopping outside the garage.

"Oh, dear God," he said, his heart sinking as it dawned what he'd find on the other side. "Jack! Jackson, you selfish son of a bitch!"

Charlie began to bark, seemingly urging him on, and he tried lifting the door. Unlocked, it opened with little difficulty. Slipping under, Charlie began to whine, and then bark more forcefully. Jackson lay, motionless and unconscious, on the concrete floor in a pool of his own blood and vomit. He'd taken a blow to the side of the head and Bobby could see crusted blood there and down his face.

The stench filled his nose, his head, fogging his mind and bringing tears to his eyes, briefly freezing him into inaction. A stool lay overturned nearby and when Bobby looked up overhead he saw Jack's leather belt looped around a rafter, the buckle undone. His belt for goodness' sake; a present from Bobby. Jack's hat sat on the rolling workbench against the wall. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together and know what Jackson had done – or rather tried to do.

Charlie whimpered anxiously at his side, and Bobby refocused. He crouched down and felt shaky fingers to the pulse point in Jack's throat. When he couldn't feel anything, he pressed harder into his neck, and harder still until he thought he might strangle Jack if he wasn't already dead. Pinching his lips to suppress his pain at being too late, he moved his fingers to the wound on Jack's head. Then he frowned, because when he held his fingers up to the truck's headlights he saw fresh blood.

"Dead men don't fucking bleed, Jack," he said in a disparaging growl, springing to his feet, the wave of relief that filled him so intense that he snorted in disgust. He gave his head a shake of disbelief. "Jack? Jack? You hear me? Answer me, you son of a bitch." He grabbed at Jack's shirt, shaking him violently. "Jack, Goddamnit, answer me!"

Moving round the body, he turned his face away from the harsh headlights, then slipped his hands underneath Jack's shoulders, not-so-gently lifting him up and dragging him through the blood and vomit toward the wall before roughly propping him up against it. His head heavily slumping forward, Jack let out a low moan. Charlie came to sit beside him, whining as he laid his snout on Jack's leg.

"Don't give him any fucking love and sympathy," Bobby told the dog in an angry snarl, "he doesn't deserve it."

There was a bulge in the front pocket of Jack's pants and Bobby felt his hand to it. The material was wet, the smell of urine now permeating his nostrils, and turning his face away in disgust he clamped his jaw shut as he took out the bottle of pills from the pocket and looked at the label. He shook his head and pushed to his feet, stowing the bottle of pills in his own jacket pocket.

"Bo-bby," Jackson said in a slurred mumble.

Bobby looked at his brother, but Jackson's head was slumped, his face in darkness. "Yeah, that's right. It's me, Bobby. Big brother to the rescue."

"Al-ly…" The word was a mere rasped whisper on Jack's lips.

"She's not here, Jack. Thank goodness." And then more quietly, as if to himself, "Thank God she's not here to see you like this. It would break her heart." Anger flared suddenly. "Is that what you want? To break her fucking heart?" He bent down on one knee, shouting in Jackson's face, "What the fuck do you think you were doing, huh?"

Bobby stopped in his tracks, stared at his brother with worry. "Jack?" he said, his gaze narrowing with concern. He lifted his hand to Jack's face, tilting it upwards, checking he was still breathing. "I need you to stay awake. Jack, don't you dare bail out on me now."

He glanced at the pool of vomit, made out bits of undigested food and what looked like pills, and gave his head another shake. An overdose was something Bobby had feared a lot over the years when Jackson had started mixing the alcohol with the meds, and he wondered now whether he should call an ambulance. He was reaching for his phone when Jackson let out a breath.

"For God's sake, Jackson. What were you thinking!"

Jackson tried to talk, spoke words Bobby couldn't make out until he finally heard what Jackson was repeating over and over. "I couldn't…do it. Dad—"

Bobby let out a breath, almost a sob at the mention of their father, then pulled Jackson to him and burying his head in his brother's shoulder allowed a tear to fall. What depths must have Jackson sunk to, to think about ending his own life? Why couldn't he open up to him about his problems, about his demons? Why couldn't he break away from their past and look forward to a future with his music and Ally, a future filled with hope and happiness?

Jackson groaned, and wiping at his eyes Bobby pulled back. "So-rry," Jackson said in a slurred whisper. He tried to move his head up and open his eyes but it seemed beyond him. "I'm sorry."

The desolation in Jackson's voice broke his heart. "I know you are, buddy." He took in a deep breath he let out slowly, then reached his hand to cradle Jack's head. "I know you are."

He was trying to come up with the best way to get Jackson inside the house when he heard a vehicle travelling at speed toward them. He looked over but was immediately blinded by his truck's headlights. He pushed to his feet with a little difficulty, straightened up the stool and used it to slide Jack's belt off the rafter, putting the belt inside the hat on the workbench. The car came to a screeching stop behind his truck and Ally came out running and calling Jack's name. Bobby watched, helpless and heartbroken, as she sank down to her knees next to Charlie and took Jack in her arms.

* * *

"Jack, I'm here, now," she said, lovingly stroking her hand to the back of his head. She kept her eyes closed and her face against his, as she tried to still her racing heart. She'd been so fraught with distress as she'd driven over, so sure she'd find him dead when Bobby never got back to her. "It's okay. I'm here."

"Al-ly…" His voice was music to her ears. "I'm…sorry."

"Sshh," she soothed as she rocked them gently. She felt Charlie's wet snout on her arm, and she was grateful for the dog's infallible love and devotion. "I'm here." Still cradling Jackson in her arms, Ally looked up at Bobby who just shrugged his shoulders powerlessly.

"I just found him here, passed out on the ground." He nodded at the pool of blood and vomit in the middle of the garage, which was explanation enough for her. "Charlie was waiting outside. He—" Bobby's words trailed off as he lifted a helpless shoulder. "We should…we should move him inside."

Ally gave a nod. "He's hurt. Maybe we should call an ambulance."

"Nah. I don't think so." Bobby scratched at the back of his head anxiously. "I think we need to keep a lid on this one. I think this one's just between the three of us." He held her gaze meaningfully and she gave a nod that she understood. Then he smiled at her softly, and she found herself smiling back. They were complicit in this. Together, they would provide Jack with the help he needed and that for however long it took. Nothing was more important at this moment in time than his wellbeing.

"Come on," Bobby said, gently touching her on the shoulder. "Let's get him up."

Ally released her hold on Jackson and nodding her head pushed to her feet. Charlie stepped back a little but hovered around restlessly, anxiously, and she lowered her hand to him affectionately. "Daddy's going to be fine," she told him. "He's going to be fine."

Bobby ran his eyes over her. "Why don't you, huh, go and change out of your…stage clothes? They're going to get ruined otherwise."

Startling, Ally touched her hand to her made-up face and hair, looked down at herself. "It's okay. I—I don't care about the clothes. I just want to…let's just…" Struggling to keep a lid on her emotions, she took a deep breath she let out slowly. "Let's get him into the house, okay?"

Together they half-carried, half-dragged a moaning and groaning Jackson into the house, to the bedroom and finally onto the bed, Charlie close on their heels all the while. Ally took off Jack's boots, then frowning began to undo his pants. "What happened to his belt?" she asked, turning toward Bobby. "He always wears it."

Bobby shrugged. "I don't know."

Ally paused. "Lift his legs while I take off his pants, will you?"

Together they took off Jack's pants and then his shirt. Charlie climbed up on the bed, settling himself at Jack's stocking feet. Afterwards, Ally filled a bowl with warm water, took a flannel from the bathroom and sitting at the edge of the bed wordlessly began washing the blood and sweat off Jack's face while Bobby hovered near the door uncertainly. Her hands were shaking as carefully she touched the cloth to his cheek, over his eyes, his forehead. When she couldn't see through the tears in her eyes, she stopped.

"I'm going to go and make some coffee," Bobby said. "You want some?"

She nodded her head without looking at Bobby. She heard Bobby move, then felt his hand on her shoulder, squeezing comfortingly.

"He's going to be fine, Ally," he said. "He threw up most of the pills; he'll sleep the rest off."

She turned her watery gaze up toward him and gave an unconvinced nod.

"How could this have happened?" Bobby went on in a whisper. "I thought you'd – _he'd_ – gotten rid of all the booze, the pills."

"I don't know, Bobby."

Her shoulders began to shake and all the pent-up emotion of the last few hours came out. Bobby sat down next to her, and rather clumsily took her in his arms. And as he spoke soothing words into her ear, she let her anger over Jack's relapse, all her grief and sadness pour out of her. She had to keep so strong for Jackson all the time, had to be so careful what she told him. When she had no more tears to cry, she pushed away from Bobby and wiped at her face self-consciously.

"You should go and wash your face," he said, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he stood up. "Take a shower maybe, while I make us some coffee. I'll watch over him."

"Do I look that bad?" Smiling through her pain, she reached for his hand. "You're kind, Bobby. Thank you. For tonight, for coming and helping me here. I—"

He returned her hand squeeze. "Don't mention it."

"I'm just so…tired." Tired didn't even begin to cover it; she'd been on the edge for months now, with Rez on her back about the tour and the promotion of the album and Jack in rehab and then home. She'd really thought things were starting to look up for them. And then this.

"I know." Bobby reached down to give her shoulder a squeeze. "I know."

While she continued cleaning Jack up, she heard Bobby move about the kitchen. He returned with two steaming mugs, one he set down on the bedside table for her, the other he began sipping from. She thanked him with a nod and a smile and carried on with her task. Jackson was looking a little better already. At least his wound had stopped bleeding. Bobby left the room and, a few minutes later, she heard him at the piano, hitting single random keys at first before he started playing a melody she didn't know. Jack stirred, calling her name in his slumber.

"I'm here," she said, stroking her hand to his brow. "I'm here."

When she finished, she drank the coffee, then emptied the bowl of bloodied water and met Bobby in the piano room. She watched his profile face as lost in the moment he played on, from memory it seemed. Stopping suddenly, he turned toward her and gave her a sheepish smile before pushing to his feet abruptly.

"Sorry. I—I didn't mean to…"

"I didn't know you played," she said, surprised, when he faltered.

His shoulder lifted self-consciously. "It soothes me."

She smiled. "Me too."

They stared at each other briefly before he lowered his eyes. "It's getting late," he said in a sigh, looking back up. "I'm going to lock up the garage and then go. You're going to be okay?"

She gave a nod. He closed the distance and they embraced.

"I'll come by tomorrow," he went on, nodding. "Call if you need anything."

After he'd left, she returned the empty coffee mugs to the kitchen and put them in the sink. On the table, she found Jack's hat and his belt. She picked up the belt, fingered the well-worn leather, then looked up abruptly, the image of what Jack had almost done suddenly vivid in her mind. Bobby had wanted to spare her more heartache, but it was all too clear. Tears in her eyes, she shut off the light, took the hat and belt back to the bedroom and put them on the dresser. Jack was out for the count.

Charlie had shifted position further up the bed, his head now partially covered by Jack's arm underneath which Charlie had most probably burrowed himself. Her hand lowered to the dog and she gave him a gentle stroke. She turned off the light. In the bathroom, she took off her stage clothes, her makeup, freed up her hair and stepped under the warm spray of the shower. There she cried some more, tears of pain and anger, of frustration and exhaustion, of despair, before she got a hold of herself and got out, dried herself and after slipping on one of Jack's T-shirt lay down on the bed next to him on the opposite side from Charlie.

Just like the dog had done, she burrowed her face in the crook of Jack's shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent, curved her body into his side and draped her arm firmly, tightly, around his chest.

Then she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

Her career was nothing in comparison to her love for Jackson.

He was everything to her.

She'd give it all up, if she thought it would keep him sober.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One line of dialogue in this chapter is taken from lyrics from Hard To Say I'm Sorry by Chicago.

When Ally awoke the next day, the space beside her was warm but empty.  Immediately, she felt cold and tense, the stale smell in the room, a mixture of alcohol, sweat and desperation, making her nauseous.  Recollection of the previous night’s events came flooding back and with them an intense sense of foreboding.   She sat up with a weary sigh, the sheet she didn’t remember slipping under falling to her waist. 

“Jack?”

The muffled sound of the shower running in the master bathroom told her where he was and briefly she relaxed.  Sunlight filtered through the curtains and, noticing a little blood on the pillow where he had slept, she softly ran her hand over it.  What should she do, she wondered then?  Should she confront him, force him to face what he had done? Or play it cool and follow his lead, see what explanation he would come up with?

She got up, pulled the curtains wide and opened the window, letting in much needed sunlight and fresh air.  Then, she stripped the bed, balled up the sheets and pillowcases, and picked up Jack’s dirty clothes off the floor.  She took everything to the laundry room, put them in the washer, adding detergent before she put the wash on.  Clearing the physical mess was easy, but the mental mess, the emotional mess, would be harder.  Charlie appeared by her side through the open back door and an instinctive smile lighting up her wary face she gave him a stroke.

“Daddy let you out, huh?” she asked in a soft voice. “You hungry?”

Charlie gave a bark and laughing she followed him to the kitchen.  She filled his bowls with fresh water and kibble, frowned as glancing at the dog she picked up a licked-clean plate from the floor. Then she set about making coffee and mugs in hand made her way to the bathroom.  The door was ajar and she pushed it open with her bare foot.  His back to her and his head bowed down, Jackson stood under the spray of the shower.  He was completely still, statue-like, as the water pounded on his back, and she wondered what was going through his head.  

She put the mugs down on the side, took care of business and after flushing and closing the lid on the toilet sat down on it.  And waited.  Waited for Jack to acknowledge her presence.  Waited for him to say the first words, explain to her what the hell happened last night, because she knew that if she spoke first her tone would be all wrong, accusatory and judgemental, recriminatory.  And an argument was the last thing she wanted.

When a few minutes later he still hadn’t moved, she stood up, took off his T-shirt she was wearing and stepped into the shower with him.  The water was cold and she tensed up.  Closing her eyes, she wrapped her arms around him from behind, leaned her face against his strong back and held him to her tightly while the water cascaded down over them.  His body felt so stiff, so fraught and cold in her arms.  She pressed her lips to his back, kept them lingering there, seeking his warmth, hoping to transfer some of hers, until she felt him relax a little.  She was pulling back from him when his body began to shake in soft sobs.

She wished she were better equipped to help him, that she had the words to soothe his troubled mind, his demons.  She tried that before, in her songs, in her actions.  But it’d made little difference – not in the long term anyway.  All she could do now was to be there for him, be strong for him and hold him while he cried.  And cry he did, like she had never seen him do before.  And maybe it was good that he was finally letting it all out.  Out of the blue, he turned around in her arms and gripping tightly to her as he buried his head in her shoulder returned the hug with all his might.  He seemed so lost, so beaten and broken by his pain and anguish.

“Oh, Jack,” she murmured, her own tears spilling.  “Let me help you.”

“I’m such a fuck-up,” he cried into her neck, “Such a fuck-up.”

“Jack, please, don’t say that.  It scares me when you say that.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

He pulled back from her suddenly.  His eyes were wide, bloodshot. His hair fell limply around his face, the water had made his head wound bleed again, the bruise around it large, blue and swollen, making him look almost frightful.  She wished she had remembered to put ice on it the previous night but now it was too late.

“Why are you still here, huh?” he asked in a fraught whisper. “Why haven’t you run a mile?”

She gave him a sad smile, reached past him to turn the water off.  “Is that what you want me to do?  Leave?”

More tears fell and he shook his head desolately.

Her smile wavered.  “I love you, Jack,” she said simply.  She cupped his face with her hands and stared deep into his eyes.  “I love _you._ Faults and all.”  Smiling softly, she raised a fist to her chest and kept it there.  “You’re in here, Jack. You’re in my heart.  Our marriage, our vows, they – _you_ mean everything to me.”  She pushed her wet hair away from her face.  “I could never walk away from you.  That would be walking away from myself.  You’re just a part of me—”

“’I can’t let go’?” he tried, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

She gave a soft laugh.  “You’re quoting other people’s songs at me now?”

He opened his mouth, only to close it again.  “Only because I’m too chickenshit to speak my own words.” 

“I don’t believe that.”

He paused, sighed and stared at her solemnly.  “Ally, I’m sorry.  I—”  The cold made her repress a shiver and he startled.  “You’re cold,” he said, coming out of the shower suddenly and grabbing a towel he immediately wrapped around her shoulders.  “You got goose bumps.”

Ally stepped out of the shower, and as he began to help dry her, he began to laugh.  Quietly at first and then more manically.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, puzzled, worried by his rapid mood swings.

“You could have the pick of any man,” he said, sobering up, “And still you choose broken me.”

A slow smile formed, spreading across her face.  “I’d choose you every time.”  Her smile trembled. Her tears returned and she licked her lips. “You scared the shit out of me last night, Jack,” she went on in a whisper.  “Hell, you scared the shit out of Bobby too.”

Turning away but not before she’d glimpsed shame and discomfort in his eyes, Jackson grabbed their robes from the hooks behind the door.  He passed Ally hers while he put on his own, used the lapel to dab at the blood still seeping from his wound.  Then he moved to the medicine cabinet, located the bottle of Tylenol and shook out a couple of pills into his hand.  He was about to pop the pills into his mouth when he looked up and stared straight at Ally through the mirror.  He held her gaze for a moment, then lowered his eyes and shook the tablets back into the bottle dejectedly.  He couldn’t even trust himself with a couple of headache tablets.

“I made you some coffee,” she said, for something to say to break the laden silence, reaching for their mugs and putting his on the corner of the sink.  Her hands began to shake and she gave a sad laugh that turned into a sob.  “Fucking coffee.  I thought we were done with all this shit, Jack.”

She tried to meet his eye through the mirror but he was looking down toward the sink.

“Jack, look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Jackson looked up, but he couldn’t hold her gaze.  “You hungry?” he asked, turning suddenly.  “Because I am.  I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.”  He took his coffee and made to walk past her, but she caught his robe, holding him back.

“Jack—” 

“I’m going to made cannelloni.” 

“Jack, please.   We need to talk about this and what happened last night.  We—”

He whipped round suddenly, kissed her lips to cut her off.  “You’re right, we do.  But not on an empty stomach.”

“How can you be hungry when—” she let her words trail off.

“When what, huh?” he challenged heatedly. 

“I don’t know, Jack,” she levelled coolly.  “You tell me.”

His anger seemed to abate as quickly as it had flared.  “I don’t remember much of last night, okay?” he admitted finally, wincing as he took a sip of the lukewarm coffee. 

“You don’t remember getting high on drink and drugs?  Because that’s what the pool of vomit in the garage suggests you did.”

His eyes narrowed.  “I’m sorry I missed your show.  There, is that what you want me to say?”

“No.”  She gave her head a shake.  “No, Jack.  That’s not at all what I want you to say.  Don't make this into something it isn't, okay? This isn’t about me, or about the show.  It’s about… _you_ and what went on in that head of yours last night.”

“Don’t you think I fucking know that?”  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to snap.”  He rubbed at his face wearily, took another sip of coffee.  “It’s just that…you’re on my back and—”  He laughed suddenly.  “And this is crap coffee.  Come on, let me cook you breakfast, or lunch, whatever.  I got a bunch of stuff in yesterday.  Let me get my head straight, then we’ll talk.”

She gave a sigh.  “All right.  But promise me we’ll talk, okay?  Properly talk, I mean.”

He emptied the mug into the sink, then kissed her on the forehead and gave her a wide smile.  “I promise.”

She stared at him solemnly.  “I mean it, Jack.”

He stepped past her.

“Jackson, I mean it,” she called, following him.

Together they set about making breakfast.  They’d always worked well in the kitchen together, and today despite everything was no exception.  As they worked, she kept stealing glances at him, gauging for his mood, for his thoughts, but he was looking strangely serene and acting as if the previous night had never happened.  It would be so easy to forget about it, to never mention it again, so easy to just sweep it under the rug as if it had never taken place, but Ally knew that that wasn’t the way forward.  One thing was clear; Jackson needed help, more help than she, and Bobby, could give him.

“What happened last night, huh?” she ventured in as casual a tone as she could muster, when finally they sat down to eat.  “Do you even remember?”

He whipped his head up, and she saw the hurt in his eyes.  “I fucked up, okay?” he said, chewing.  “That’s what happened last night.  I fucked up.  But it won’t happen again.”

“You fucked up?” she queried with disbelief, keeping her voice calm and devoid of reproach despite the tears stinging the corners of her eyes.  “Because you failed to kill yourself, is that it?”

“No,” he denied vehemently, his voice rising. He put his knife and fork down. “No.”  A look of sadness flashed across his eyes and he glanced down at his plate before bringing his eyes back up to her face. “Because I gave in.  Because I wasn’t strong enough.  Strong enough to—to fight the thoughts in my fucking head.”

“What thoughts?”

He dropped his gaze, sighed.  “Is Bobby pissed?”

“Sure, Bobby’s pissed.  As I am.  _I’m_ pissed, Jack.  Does it matter?  Do I matter in all this?”  She regretted her words as soon as she’d said them.

“Of course, it matters.  _You_ matter, Goddamnit.”  There was anger and fire in his eyes now.  “I love you.  I _love_ you with all my heart.”  Tears welled and he gave a pitiful shrug.  “But last night…last night, I—”

“You what?” she asked quietly, when he faltered.

He looked up again, met her gaze dead on. “I lost it.”

“You lost it.”

He nodded.  “The fucking battle.”

“With the thoughts in your head,” she said resignedly, and he gave a sad nod.

“I hate what I’ve become, Ally.  I hate being this…sick, selfish…Goddamn addict.”  He covered his right ear with his hand.  “I hate this fucking, constant ringing in my ears and I hate that I’m holding you back.”

She frowned.  “You’re not holding me back.”

“I’m a fucking embarrassment to you.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

“Stop saying that.  You’ve got problems but—”

“I’m an addict,” he said, nodding fervently.

She paused.  “You are.”

“An addict and an alcoholic.”

She sighed, gave a nod.  “Yes.  But Jack, you’re getting help.  You’re getting better.”

“I’ll always be an addict and an alcoholic.”

She pinched her lips to hide her growing distress.  “And you’re learning to live with it.  You’re learning to cope.  But last night, last night it was more than just being an addict, or an alcoholic.”  Her gaze became probing, insistent.  “Last night, you thought about ending your life.”

He gave a nod, then picked up his knife and fork again and resumed eating.  “It won’t happen again.”

Ally watched him with disbelief.  “It won’t happen again.  That’s it?  That’s all I get?  Because last night was a big deal, Jack.  For me and Bobby, it was a fucking big deal, alright?  It wasn’t like all the other times, Jack.  When we just put you in a cold shower and left you to sleep it off.”

“You don’t understand.”

She scoffed.  “I don’t understand?”

“No, you don’t.”  He pointed his fork at her as he spoke. “Two things happened last night - first the relapse—”

“Yeah about that.  Where did you get the alcohol from anyway?  And the pills?  We cleaned the house out, didn’t we, Jack?”

He nodded, then shrugged.  “I bought the bottle when I went grocery shopping.”  He shrugged again.  “And the pills?  Well, they were in the truck.  I didn’t even know they were there until I looked for…” He stopped dead in his tracks.  “Anyways, that’s not important.”

“So, you’re telling me you haven’t got any more drink stashed some place around the house?”

“No!” he retorted heatedly, looking offended that she’d think that of him.  “I swear to you, Ally.  I don’t.” 

“Pills?”

His gaze lowered sheepishly.  “Not that I know of.”

“Not that you know of.”

He looked up abruptly.  “That’s true, Ally.  But that’s not important.”

“You keep saying that, Jack.”

“Because it’s true,” he insisted.   “Last night two things happened, like I said.  The relapse and—”

“And your attempted suicide?”

He swallowed, nodded his head.  “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“What else?”

Jack sighed.  “All right.  I thought about it, okay?  But the important thing is that I couldn’t do it.  I couldn’t go through with it.”

“Bobby found your belt, Jack.  Your fucking belt.”

Jack winced.  “And I’m sorry about that.”  He sighed.  “You want to know the reason why I couldn’t go through with it?  I couldn’t do it because of you.  I couldn’t do it because of Bobby.  Every time I closed my fucking eyes, I saw your face, saw the love in your eyes, felt your arms around me, your lips on my lips.”  He touched his fingers to his temple.  “I fell on the concrete floor, Ally, tripped over the fucking stool, that’s how I hurt my head.  I don’t remember anything after that.”

Jackson remained with his head bowed down for a long moment while Ally just sat there, watching with disbelief as she processed his words.  “What you just said…well, it’s…it’s…” She sighed, “And I want to believe it, Jack.  I truly do—”

“But you don’t,” he cut in, and smiled sadly.  “And I don’t blame you.”  He moved the food about his plate before he threw down his fork.

“The look in your eyes in the shower, Jack, in the bathroom.  You crying like that just then, it—”

He closed his eyes.  “Scared you?  Well, it scared me too.”  He looked up, met her gaze uncertainly, his next words coming uneasily.  “I was scared, Ally. I still am.  I scared myself last night, because I thought I might die, alone in the garage without ever saying goodbye.”

Tears built in her eyes.  She reached a trembling hand to him and he took it, clutched it with all his might.  “You got to promise me, Jack.  If those thoughts return, you got to talk to me about it, or talk to Bobby.  We’re going to get you a therapist, okay?  I knew you stopped too soon after rehab.”

“Whatever you want, I’ll do.”

“No, Jack.  I don’t want you to do it for me.  You must want to do it for yourself.  That’s the only way you’re going to get better.”

He gave a nod, dropped his eyes to his half-eaten food.

“You know what the sad thing is?” she asked, and he refocused.  “I don’t know if I can trust you anymore.”

“How do you mean?  Of course you can trust me.”

Ally shook her head.  “Do you remember?  When you got me on stage for the first time and we sang _Shallow_?  You remember what you told me then?  What you’ve told me ever since?”

His eyes took on a distant turn.  “Sure I do.”

“And I did, Jack.  Ever since that first night, I’ve trusted you with my life.  With everything.  But now I don’t know if I can ever leave you alone in the fucking house.”

He refocused on her sharply.  “I’m going to have to earn your trust again, Ally.  I swear to you.  Last night will never, ever happen again.”

She stared at him deep in his eyes and when she saw the truth of his words there she gave him a nod and a smile.

“Starting now,” he went on.  “Ask me anything.  Anything you want and I’ll answer you truthfully.”

“Okay.  I want to know what took you over the edge. What caused the relapse, Jack?  What made you buy that bottle while you were out grocery shopping?  And don’t say the thoughts in your head because that’s bullshit.  That’s a cop-out.”

He had a moment’s hesitation.  “I can’t tell you.”

Ally’s laugh was sad, incredulous.  “There we go.  You just prove my point.”

He sighed.  “It’s Rez,” he admitted finally. 

Ally’s eyes narrowed.  “Rez?”

“He said something to me.  Something that upset me and shouldn’t have.”

“Rez spoke to you?”

Jackson nodded. “But it’s not important now.”

“Jack?” she probed.  And when he still kept quiet, “What did Rez say to you?”

He looked up, met her angry gaze dead on.  Understanding dawned in her eyes, then a flash of anger. Now it all made sense.

“He’s right, Ally.  I’m holding you back.  This European tour, it’s the right time for you, your career is taking off and—”

But Ally wasn’t listening.  “Rez came here?”

He nodded.

“To our house?  He came here to talk to you?”

Jack’s nod was more hesitant this time.

“I’m going to kill him.  I’m going to fucking kill him.  He had no right to come and talk to you.  He had no fucking right to come into my house, into our house to talk to you.  Behind my fucking back.”  She stood up from the table and started to pace. 

He ran his fingers through his hair nervously.  “He’s looking out for you.”

“ _You_ look out for me.”

Jackson dropped his gaze.  “Not very well.”

She grabbed her chair and pulling it next to him sat down on it, then took his hand in hers and leaned her head close to his.  “You know what, Jack?  It doesn’t matter.  None of it matters right now. _I_ love you.”  She stared at him, straight through him, as though she could see inside his soul.  “I _love_ you.  And I’m not going anywhere.  Not anywhere far anyway, and not for the near future.” 

Grinning, he tugged her into his side.

“How would you feel if we had a pool built?” she asked, moving to sit on his lap.

The change of tack caught him by surprise.  “What, like in the back yard?”

“Why not?  It’s big enough and we can afford it.”

Jack lapsed into silence without answering.

She draped her arms around his neck and nuzzled the side of her face against his beard.  “It helped you while you were in rehab, right?  I mean, that’s what you told me when I visited.”

He nodded.  “It did.”  Leaning his face against hers, he gave her a smile.  “It was good for me.”

She moved her lips to the corner of his mouth.  “What else is good for you, huh?”

She felt his smile widen against her skin.  Then he slipped his arms under her and lifted her up as he stood.  Their gazes locked, so much love and emotion passing between them as he carried her to the bedroom and gently dropped her down onto the unmade bed.  The window was still open, and the sunshine warmed her face.  He reached out his hand to brush away a tendril of hair from her eyes and then slowly, very slowly, closing the gap between them touched his lips to hers.  Ally closed her eyes and let out a gasp, still overwhelmed by the intensity of her body’s response, even after all these months and everything that had happened between them since. 

They had a long road ahead of them before Jack was truly better, but she hoped that they’d at least turned a corner.

She hoped that with her love and support, and time and therapy, he would learn to conquer _all_ the demons in his head.


	3. Chapter 3

Ally let out a contented breath and snuggled herself deeper into her husband’s side.  Her leg was draped over his, her arm wrapped protectively, almost possessively, around his chest, while he snoozed.  A wave of intense wellbeing washed over her, warmth that spread all through her body, almost reigniting the smouldering embers of their lovemaking.  Smiling, she pressed her lips to the side of his chest, then pushing up onto her elbow trailed slow kisses all the way up to his collar bone.

A slow smile spreading across his face, he opened his eyes.  “What are you doing?” he whispered hoarsely.

“Just kissin’ you,” she said playfully.

His smile grew, twitching at his lips as he turned to look at her.  “Just kissin’ me, huh?”

“Huh, huh.  Just kissin’ you.”  She brushed her lips to the corner of his mouth for good measure, and he laughed.  Her eyes flicked over to the bruise on his temple, and her smile fading she stroked a feather-light finger to it.  “Is it very sore?” she asked, when he pulled back from the touch.

“A little.”

“You trying to be tough?”

“A little,” he replied, his smile returning. 

She sighed.  “I’m sorry.  I should have put ice on it last night.  I should have gotten ahead of the swelling.”

His smile broadening, he tugged her to him to kiss her forehead.  “Don’t worry about it.  It’s nothing less than I deserve.”

“Still,” she said, once again nestling into his side.  “I wouldn’t want it to leave a mark on your pretty face.”

He laughed, and she brought her gaze up to his face.  “This, here,” he said, pointing at his face, “A pretty face?”

“Yeah,” she replied, and then sobering up, “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Charlie jumped up onto the bed, settling himself at their feet, and Ally tucked up her legs to make space.

“I got to be hard on myself, Ally,” Jackson said, refocusing.  “That’s the only way I’m going to get better.”

She nodded her head at him before she lowered her eyes back to his chest and mindlessly began teasing the hairs there.  He let out a sigh, then shifted under her suddenly, and then onto his side and finally on top of her.  Yelping, Charlie jumped off the bed, and they laughed.  She didn’t resist when, eyes locked to hers and a soft, mischievous smile on his face, he caught her wrists in his hands, raised her arms above her head and slowly closed the distance to kiss her lips.

“Does it scare you?” she asked in a whisper, holding his gaze levelly when he pulled back from her.

He frowned.  “What does?”

“Not drinking.  Not taking the medication you need.”

He rolled off her with a shrug.  “Yeah,” he admitted after long seconds, his eyes steadfast on the ceiling.  “It scares the crap out of me.”  Looking over to her, he gave a mirthless laugh.  “I’ve spent more time shitfaced than not in my life.”

She nodded.  “Are you worried it might…I don’t know…impede your ability to perform?”

He burst out laughing.  “Perform?  What kind of performance are we talking about here?” 

A wide smile on her lips, she play-punched his arm.  “You know what I mean, don’t try to change the subject.”

His expression became serious again.  “Like, am I scared I can’t play or sing or write music sober?”

She gave a hesitant nod, and he turned his attention back to the ceiling. 

“It’s just that,” she went on uncertainly when he lapsed into silence, “well, like…you haven’t written anything since before rehab, or played and—”

He whipped his head toward her.  “I’ve played to you.  Sang to you.”

She watched him tenderly.  “You know what I mean.”

Refocusing his gaze on the ceiling, he didn’t answer for a long time.  He just seemed to lose himself in thoughts.

She raised on her elbow and gave him an encouraging smile.  “Jack?”

“I guess I won’t know until I try,” he finally admitted.

“So you’re not going to quit.”

He registered a look of shock.  “No! Of course not.”  He shifted onto his side so he could look at her.  “Is that what you thought?”

She shrugged.  “I don’t know.  It’s just that…you know…Well, I guess—I know how much performing means to you.  How much a part of your life it is and I was worried that—”

He covered her mouth with his hand.  “Sshh,” he said softly.  “Stop worrying about me now.  I’m going to take one day at a time and see.  That’s all I can do.  Take one day at a time.”

“Yeah but your music is such a big part of your life,” she insisted, “Such a big part of both our lives and—”

This time, he shushed her with a kiss on the lips.  “Just enjoy this moment.  I know I am.”

She nodded, remained silent for a whole five seconds before she felt compelled to add, “It’s just…”

“Ally—” he said in a sigh, but the smile tugging at his lips belied his chastising tone.

“No, just hear me out, will you?  Just listen…it’s just that I’ve gotten this idea into my head and it won’t leave me and I want to run it past you.”   She sat up abruptly, excitedly, then crossed her legs on the bed, Indian-style. 

One brow rising, Jackson’s eyes lowered from her face to her chest and stomach, to her groin and lingered there.  “Now, there’s a picture,” he said, his smile growing into a full-blown grin that lit up the whole of his face. 

Pulling a face, she punched his chest playfully, then grabbed her pillow and used it to cover herself.  “Jack, I mean it,” she said sternly.  “Listen to me. It’s important.”

Reluctantly, he brought his eyes back up to her face.  She pinched her lips to hide her nervousness and he sobered up.  “What is it?”

“You know how I’m taking time off the tour, right?”

Looking uneasy now, he gave a nod.  “You mean, time off the tour you cancelled.  Because of me.”

She conceded his point with a grudging nod.  “Well, I was thinking, in that time, we could…you know…we could…”  She took a breath she let out quickly, then made herself meet his gaze dead on.  “I want us to write songs together.  I want us to write songs for my next album.  And yours.”

“What?”

“Why not?” she challenged, immediately anticipating a rejection.  “At least, think about it before you say no.”

“I can’t write pop songs,” he said, his voice full of disbelief.  “I—”

She touched her index finger to his lips to cut him off.  “Maybe not, but you write songs from the heart, from the soul.  And I want my next album to be just that.  Heart and soul.”  She scoffed.  “Hell, that could be the album’s title.”

 _“Heart and soul,”_ Jackson began to whisper, singing, “ _I fell in love with you._  
_Heart and soul, the way a fool would do, madly_  
_Because you held me tight_  
_And stole a kiss in the night.”_

Recognising the familiar 1938 Hoagy Carmichael lyrics, she laughed.  “Oh, my God, my father _loves_ this song.”

 _“Heart and soul,”_ she then sang, _“I begged to be adored._  
_Lost control, and tumbled overboard, gladly_  
_That magic night we kissed_  
_There in the moon mist.”_

They shared a long look and smile and she reached for his hand before squeezing it tenderly, meaningfully.  “I want my next album to be different from the stuff I put out before with Rez,” she said.  “I want to go back to the kind of stuff we sing together.  The stuff I used to write when I sang with you.”

His face fell, and pulling his hand out of her grasp he looked away and sighed.  “Ally, that’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

He met her probing gaze, gave a shrug.  “Because for you that’d be going backwards.  You’ve got your own voice now.  You’ve become this…”  His shoulder lifted again, searching for the right word, finally settling for, “…superstar.  You’re bigger than all that now.”

“That’s bullshit,” she challenged, clutching at the pillow on her lap for comfort.

“Only ‘cause you don’t like the fact that I’m speaking the truth!”  She was about to object when he added, “How about Rez in all this, huh?  You’ve got a contract with him.  Rez wouldn’t like it, Ally.  He wouldn’t go for it.  It wouldn’t fit with your new image.”

“Fuck the new image, Jack.”  She hit a flat hand against her chest.  “The new image was never me!”

“He’d say that it’s not your sound.  But mine.”

“Fuck Rez,” she said, laughing now, and he laughed too.  “It can be _our_ sound.”  She paused, tried to convey with her eyes how serious, how passionate she was about the idea.  How it all made sense.  “Rez… doesn’t understand.  He doesn’t understand me like you do.  He never has.  He has no…soul, no _feel_ for what’s real.  He can’t put words together like you can—like _we_ can.  I need you, Jack.”

Jack opened his mouth only to shut it again, and she knew that he was out of arguments, that she almost had him convinced. 

“I. Need. You,” she said again, emphasising each word.

His flicked his eyes down uncertainly.

She stroked her hand to his face.  “At least, don’t dismiss the idea out of hand.  Just…”  She paused and when he glanced up she tapped a gentle finger to his forehead, “Just keep it up there.  For me.”  Her expression softened lovingly.  “Will you that for me?”

A grudging smile formed, spreading across Jackson’s face, and she leaned across to kiss him on the mouth. 

“I’m still the same person I was when we met, Jack,” she said quietly when she pulled back.  “I’m still the same Ally.”  She took his hand and brought it to her lips.  “The hair, the makeup, the clothes, the new songs, the new sound, that’s all for show, Jack.  That was all for show.  Inside, I’m still me.  Me, Ally.  Your Ally.”

His eyes brimmed with emotion.  “I know.” 

Reaching over, he trailed a slow finger from her sternum down between her bare breasts over her stomach and behind the pillow down to her triangle of dark hair.  His touch was like fire on her skin, and she shivered at the sensation.  He looked back up to her face, then smiled and sat up too.  Cupping his hands to her face, he closed the distance to her and captured her lips in a searing kiss.  With a groan of desire, she slowly fell backwards until she lay on the mattress with him on top.  He was pushing up to slide the pillow out from between them when the phone on the bedside table rang.  They ignored it until the answering machine kicked in and Bobby’s voice filled the room.

“Hi, Ally, Sweetie.”

Jackson pulled back, breaking the kiss suddenly, and cocked his ear toward the phone.

“It’s…Bobby here.  I was just…you know…calling to see how things were.”

Both Ally and Jackson sat up and stared at the other silently, questioningly, while Bobby talked.

“Well, huh…”

Ally reached over, picking up the phone and connecting the call.

“I’m here, Bobby,” she said breathlessly into the phone, looking at Jack.  “I was out back.”

“That’s okay,” Bobby said leisurely.  “Is everything okay at home?”

“Sure.  Everything’s fine.”

“And Jack?”

She held Jackson’s eyes as she spoke.  “Jack’s good.”

“Oh, that’s great.  That’s really great, Ally.  Well, I was thinking of coming over, you know, to check up on things, but if you say everything’s fine—”

“You know what, Bobby?  Why don’t you…huh…come on over anyway?  Have dinner with us?”

Bobby had a moment’s pause.  “You sure?”

“Yeah.  Sure.”

Turning his back on Ally, Jackson moved to the edge of the bed.

“I look forward to it,” Bobby said.  “Okay, huh… so…I’ll see you later then.”

They said their goodbyes and Ally hung up the phone.

“What did you do that for?” Jackson asked, getting up.  He rummaged in a drawer for a pair of boxer shorts he swiftly put on.

“You need to make amends with him, Jack.”

“I thought I already had.”

She sighed, and he sat down at the edge of the bed wearily.  Pushing up on her knees, she hugged him from behind.  “It’s going to be okay,” she said into his neck.  “Bobby loves you.  He understands about addiction.”

Jackson looked back toward her and gave an unconvinced nod.  Then he got up, and left the room, Charlie close on his heels, leaving her to wonder if yet again she was doing the right thing by him.  She got up too, got dressed, then set about putting clean sheets on the bed.  She picked up their robes from the floor, hung them back on the hooks in the bathroom.  She brushed her hair, tied it back in a ponytail.  She was cleaning her teeth when she heard Jackson at the piano.  He was just finger tapping the keys, playing the same few notes Bobby had the previous night, the start of a melody she hadn’t heard before.  Quickly, she rinsed her mouth and intrigued wordlessly padded over to the living room.  There she leaned on the door frame and watched him.

“What’s that you’re playing?” she asked, when feeling her presence he stopped and glanced toward her.  “It’s nice.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.”  She thought he was going to leave it at that, when he said, “It’s something my dad used to play.”

Ally paused.  She knew a lot of Jackson’s mental and emotional issues stemmed from events dating back to his troubled childhood, but every time she’d asked in the past he’d always been vague and dismissive of it.  Maybe now, it would be different.  “Is it a song?” she queried, keeping her tone as casual as she could.

Eyes steadfast on his hands on the piano keys, he shook his head.  “No.  Just this.”

She registered a look of surprise.  “And in all these years, you never made it into a song?  Put words to it?”

Again, he shook his head.  Then he looked up, and she smiled at him.  He held his hand out to her, and closing the distance she took it.

“Why don’t we…take a trip out on the bike?” she asked.  “Tomorrow, I mean.  Make a day of it. Take a picnic maybe?  Go to the coast, somewhere quiet where we can just…”

“Be?”

Her smile widened, and she leaned over to kiss him.  “Yeah.  Be.”

“I’d like that.”

She reached out her free hand to stroke his face.  “I’m going to go clean up lun—”  She was nodding toward the kitchen when she heard knocking, coming from the kitchen glass door.

Charlie’s head lifted off the floor, then getting to his feet he began to growl and bark before he went to investigate.

“What is it?” Jackson asked, frowning.

“A knock on the door.  Must be Bobby.”

Outside, Charlie began to bark, loud, angry barks that were uncharacteristically aggressive, and Ally frowned.  She was hurrying through the kitchen door when she stopped dead in her tracks.  Rez stood there, not Bobby.  His back to her, he was trying to keep a hostile Charlie at bay.  Quickly, she retraced her steps to the living room.  Jackson wasn’t at the piano anymore.  He was on the floor, flicking through some of his vinyls.  He pulled one out with a nod and a satisfied smile.

“ _Heart and Soul_ ,” he said, smiling up to her, unaware.  “The Cleftones, 1973.”

“It’s Rez,” she said, breathlessly, “Not Bobby, at the door.”

Jackson’s expression darkened, the smile falling off his lips.  “What do you want to do?”

“I’m going to talk to him,” she said decisively, “but…I think you should…”  She didn’t want him to get the wrong message and think that she was ashamed of him and of what he had tried to do the previous night, or that she was trying to protect her own reputation.  Quite the opposite in fact; she wanted to protect him from Rez and more hurt, at least until he was stronger emotionally.   She glanced at the bruise on Jackson’s face, and he nodded his head in understanding. 

“I’m going to stay right here,” he said when she faltered, “Keep out of the way.”

She gave him a nod.  “I just…” she said, wanting, needing to explain herself and for him to understand, “I just…don’t want to give him the satisfaction to think that what he said to you yesterday got to you, you know?”

“I get it.” 

She covered the distance to him, crouched down beside him and gave him a kiss.  “I love you.  What I have to say to him won’t take long.”

He gave her a wan smile, another nod, and she retraced her steps back to the kitchen.  Rez’s hands were cupped to the plate glass, as anxiously he peered inside.  She smoothed down her hair and looked down at herself.  She was wearing shorts and a cropped T-shirt; it was a far cry from the glamorous image he liked her to portray and she was glad of it.  She slid the door open.

“Get the fucking dog off me, Ally,” Rez snarled, almost falling in past her, Charlie still growling at his heels.

Smiling, she crouched down, cuddled Charlie around the neck affectionately.  “Charlie, my boy,” she said, talking quietly in his ear.  “Go and see Daddy.  Go find Daddy.”

Immediately calming down, Charlie gave Rez another look before he turned around and disappeared through the kitchen door.  Ally straightened up, then automatically began clearing the table of hers and Jackson’s lunch plates.

“I take it you found Jack?” he asked.  “Last night?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, playing it cool as she glanced over her shoulder.  “I did.”

“And? Is he alright?”

“Sure.”  And when he watched her expectantly, “He—He’s got strep throat.”

Rez’s smile was wry and knowing.  “Strep throat.”

She nodded.  “Thought it best not to sing, you know, damage his vocal chords.”

“Did he now,” Rez said, his voice dripping disbelief.

At that moment, Jackson began to play the piano, and she smiled on recognising the first few notes of _I’ll Never Love Again_.  And then as she stacked plates, cutlery, glasses and mugs into the dishwasher he sang the first verse of the chorus.  Stealing a glance at Rez, Ally pinched her lips to stifle her growing amusement and sense of pride.  Jackson’s timing couldn’t have been any better.

 _“Don’t wanna feel another touch,_  
_Don’t wanna start another fire…”_

“I haven’t heard this before,” Rez remarked with interest. 

“It’s new material Jack’s working on.  Songs for a new album, you know…”

_“Don’t wanna know another kiss…”_

“No.  I don’t know,” Rez said.

 _“No other name falling off my lips…_  
_I’ll never love again…Never love again…”_

“Anyways,” she said, moving to close the door, shutting off Jack’s singing, “I’m sure you didn’t come all this way to listen to Jack sing.”

“You're right; I didn’t.”

“Or inquire about his health.”

“No. I came to see you actually.”  Rez paused, took a breath as if he needed to gather his thoughts.  “Ally, we can’t cancel the European tour.  Too much is at stake.”

“You’re right, too much _is_ at stake.  That’s why we have to cancel.”

He frowned.  “Ally, the press releases have already gone out, all the dates are sold out.  Cancelling would—”

“Would what, Rez?” she challenged.

“Well, it would damage your reputation, for starters.”

“My reputation?  Don’t you mean yours?”

Rez used his index finger to punctuate his words.  “This is the time to strike, Ally.  Not back off.  Many a career has ended on whims like that.”

Ally did a double take. “Whims?” she said, anger flaring in her eyes.  “Because you think that I’m doing this on a fucking _whim_?”

A shadow moving behind the window had Ally refocusing abruptly.  Bobby was walking past.  Stopping at the open sliding door, he knocked on the plate glass.  It was clear from the look on his face that he’d heard her outburst. With a sigh, she beckoned him in.  She glanced at Rez and watched as he and Bobby shared curt nods.  

“Hi Bobby,” she said, coming to greet him. 

Bobby leaned across, bussing Ally on the cheek.   “You okay?” his eyes asked.

She replied with a smile.  “Jack’s at the piano,” she said.

Bobby nodded, then shot Rez another long sideways look before he gave Ally another smile and left them to join Jack.  She and Rez kept quiet while Bobby knocked on the living room door.  “I’m not interrupting?” he asked Jack as he went in.  The door closed again, shutting off both men’s voices.

“Do you mind if we sit down?” Rez said, taking a seat at the table before she could reply.  He indicated that she should do the same, but she remained standing.  “I get that you want time off because of Jackson, because you want to look after him and be there for him,” he went on, his tone calmer and less accusing now.  “Hell, I know you wouldn’t be doing it otherwise.  But cancelling?  That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?  Could we maybe postpone the tour for a few weeks?  Say until the beginning of July?”

“No, Rez,” she said, her head shaking.  “I just—I told you.  I can’t go to Europe.  Not now, not in July.  Next year maybe—”

“Next year?” Rez exclaimed with disbelief, cutting her off.  “Next year?  We can’t wait until next year.”  His voice had been rising steadily and he took a calming breath.  “Ally, I’ve invested a lot of time and effort into you and your career and let’s not forgot about the money—”

She gave a wry smile.  “I don’t care about the money, Rez.  It’s never been about the money.  How do you not know that about me?” 

Rez pushed to his feet impatiently. “Okay, well, then, you should start showing a little more respect for what I’m trying—for what I’ve done for you.”

“Respect?  Like you show me?  Like you show Jackson?”

“Jackson’s a fucking mess.” 

“Jack’s got more fucking soul and talent than you’ll ever know,” she countered angrily.

“That’s not true, Ally.  I know you.   _You_ could be so much more than him, if only…if only—” 

“If only what, huh?  Go on, say it.  Make my fucking day.”

Rez balled his right hand into a fist, showing his growing frustration.  “You’ve got so much more potential, Ally, so much more untapped talent.”

“You wouldn’t know talent if it bit you in the ass.”

“If you stay with him, he’ll bring you down.  Single-handedly.  If not now, then next year, or the year after.”  He tapped his temple.  “He’s messed up, Ally.” 

“You’re just scared. You’re scared you’re going to lose me because I make you money.  A shit ton of money.  But it’s not about the money, Rez.  It’s about the talent and what you do with it.  It’s about believing the stories you tell the audience.”

“That’s not you speaking, Ally.  That’s Jack.”

Ally’s head was shaking.  “Don’t you get it?  Haven’t you fucking figured it out yet?  Jack and I, we’re one and the same.  I let you mould me into a model I didn’t quite fit into.  I tried to keep my vision.  I tried to stay true to myself even when you were pulling me away.” 

“Everything you have you owe to me.”

Her smile was bitter, incredulous.  “I don’t think so.  I think without me you’ve got nothing.”  She fixed him with a cold stare.  “If you don’t dig deep in your fucking soul, you won’t have legs.”

Rez frowned.  “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that…that’s it, Rez.  You and me, we’re done.  Over.”

“You don’t mean that.”

She held his stare levelly.  “You don’t think so?”

“I made you into who you are, Ally.  Without me, you’re fucking…nothing.”

Ally gave him a knowing smile.  “Is that right?”  She laughed.  “Well, I’ll take nothing over what you have to offer any time of the day.  I’m just starting off, Rez.”

“You’re going to hear from my lawyers.”

“You do that.”   She moved toward the sliding door, indicating the way out.  “Now get the fuck out of my house,” and then shouting so loudly that he startled, “Get out!  And don’t ever, ever come back.”


	4. Chapter 4

Ally sat down on the chair Rez had vacated and elbows on the table put her head in her hands.  What had just happened?  It was one thing taking time off the tour, time off recording and events, another completely being without a manager.  What about the contract she had with Rez, she thought then?  The new album?  What if Rez sued as he’d implied?  What then?  Would she go bankrupt? She wouldn’t be the first, or the last. 

Money was never important to her – it never was the reason for going into the business in the first place, but it was nice not to have to worry about it anymore and even be able to treat her father every once in a while. She’d just have to put out a new album, that was all, better than the first one, and she had enough confidence in herself now to know she could do it, especially if Jackson worked on it with her. 

She looked up and began to laugh.  She felt strangely liberated now, almost euphoric about it.  She had a sense that everything would work out.  After all, there were other music managers out there.  She and Rez had had so many creative differences lately, so many disagreements, notwithstanding his constant criticism of Jackson, that she couldn’t help thinking that going their separate ways was a blessing in disguise. 

She scrambled to her feet, suddenly excited to share her news with Jack.  The house was strangely silent, the living room empty, and frowning she wondered what Jack and Bobby were up to.  She heard growling through the open door that led to the backyard, then Bobby’s resonating laughter, and when she followed the sound she found them there, Jack playing with Charlie while Bobby leaned back on the couch, watching.  Jackson had slipped on some old jeans and a T-shirt, and she felt heartened by the sight of the two brothers, happily chatting and joking together.

If only she could suspend time, she thought, emotion tugging at her heart.  Bobby looked over to her unexpectedly, meeting her gaze dead on, and quickly wiping at her eyes she gave him a wave and a bright smile.  Jackson turned and his grin widening beckoned her over.  Her smile trembling, she licked her lips, then lifted her index finger in the air, indicating that she wouldn’t be long.  She went back to the kitchen and looked in the fridge for some cold drinks to take out to them, frowning at the six-pack of beer she found there. 

She took one of the bottles out and laughed at the large _0.0%_ emblazoned across the front of the label.  She checked the small print carefully, making sure that the beer was indeed non-alcoholic rather than low-alcohol, chastising herself that doing so meant she didn’t fully trust Jackson.  She took two more bottles out, uncapped them, then reached for a packet of potato chips from the cupboard.  When she returned, the two brothers hadn’t moved.  Bobby glanced in her direction and smiling widely she joined their side. 

“I got refreshment,” she said cheerfully, lifting her celebratory booty in the air.

Recognising the bottles, Jackson met her gaze and laughed. He walked over and took two bottles out of her hands.  “She got me on this shit,” he then said, handing one to Bobby while he kept the other.

“No, I didn’t,” Ally defended in a chuckle.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Bobby exclaimed, laughing as sitting forward he studied the label.  He cocked a brow at his brother.  “Booze-free beer?”

Jackson winked at Ally, and she shook her head in amusement, in happiness.  It was so good to see him so carefree, joking and well. 

“This shit’s better for you than the other shit, that’s for sure,” she said, taking a seat next to Bobby on the couch

“She’s got a point there,” Bobby said, raising his bottle in a toast.

Pulling a face, Jack clinked his bottle against Bobby’s, and then against Ally’s. “You ganging up on me?” he said, bringing the bottle to his lips.

Bobby took a sip, wincing as he swallowed it.  “Tastes like shit too.”

Jack snorted, almost choking on his mouthful, and the three burst out laughing.  The smile lingering on her lips, Ally flicked her eyes between Jack and Bobby.  Whatever talk they’d had seemed to have cleared the air and done Jack good.  Smiling, Bobby caught her eye, and she smiled back.  Charlie barked, and Jack turned back to him.

“You want some too?” he asked the dog, laughing as he crouched down and tipped the bottle to his snout.

“Jackson—” Ally said, chastising.

“Won’t do him any harm,” he said, as Charlie began lapping at the trickle of liquid.  And then flicking his gaze over to her, “I take it Rez is gone?”

“Yeah.”  Her smile fading, she put her bottle down on the ground and pulling at the edges opened the bag of potato chips.  She took a handful and passed the bag to Bobby, then looked up at Jack who was still watching her expectantly.  She shrugged.  “He came to see if…if, well I would reconsider—”

“He doesn’t want to cancel the European tour,” Jack said.

“No, he doesn't.”  Remembering Bobby had heard some of the conversation, she glanced toward him.  “To cut a long story short,” she went on, breaking into a wide smile, “Rez and I have parted ways.”

“What?” Jack exclaimed, his eyes narrowing in disbelief.

Her shoulder lifting she gave a giddy laugh.  “Rez isn’t my manager anymore.”

“Good riddance,” Bobby said, reaching over to pat her on the leg.  “I never liked the guy.”

“What the fuck happened?” Jack exclaimed angrily, suddenly. 

Ally recoiled, briefly shocked into silence by the intensity of his reaction.

“Jack, please, don’t overreact,” Bobby said, his voice quiet but steady.  “There are plenty more music managers out there.  Someone with Ally’s talent won’t be short of offers.”

Jack fixed Bobby with a dark stare.

“I thought you’d be happy,” Ally said, uncomprehending and fearful all of a sudden. 

In her haste to go to him, calm him down and explain, she stood up abruptly, knocking down her beer bottle, which began to spill at her feet.  She went to Jack but he turned away from her, and she glanced at Bobby despondently.  He was looking as stunned as she felt.

"But Jack, I don't understand. You were always against him, always telling me how—"  

Jack glanced over his shoulder, but didn’t meet either hers or Bobby’s gaze.  His expression was dark, guarded, his eyes anxious, and she faltered.  “I’m going to…”  He nodded toward the house, “go and get dinner started.”

“Jack,” Ally called again sadly, pleadingly, trying to make sense of his reaction as she watched him go, Charlie following behind.  Again she made to go to him but Bobby stood and caught her hand, keeping her in place.  

“Give him a little time,” he said softly, releasing her hand when she turned toward him.  “He’ll come around.”

“You think so?”

Bobby smiled, nodded, then he patted a comforting hand to her shoulder.  “The news came out of the blue, is all.”

She turned back toward the house.  “I really thought he’d be happy.”

“He’s only thinking of you, Ally.  Of what’s best for you.  He may not have liked Rez, but the guy did alright by you, career-wise anyways.”

Ally gave a distracted nod.  “I’m just…”  She indicated the house.  “I need to make sure he’s okay.”

“He’s fine,” Bobby insisted, stopping her short, as he resumed his seat on the couch. “He’s got Charlie with him.  We’ll know if something’s wrong.”

“He had Charlie with him last night,” she bit back, and sighed, immediately contrite.  “I’m sorry.”  Pausing, she rubbed at her face wearily.  “Do you think he knows what’s going on? Charlie, I mean.  It’s just…that since last night, he’s been like a shadow to him, even more so than usual.” 

“Sure he does.  Dogs sense these things, don’t they.”

Ally gave a musing nod. 

“You got to trust him,” Bobby went on matter-of-factly.  “He’s not a child; you can’t watch him 24/7.”

She gave a wry smile.  “Easier said than done.”

Bobby nodded his agreement.  “But you can’t be with him every second of the day, and certainly you _won’t_ be with him every time something doesn’t go his way and he gets upset.”  Pausing, he gave her a kind smile and patted the space on the couch beside him.  “Don’t crowd him too much when he’s like that.  He just needs a little time and space, but I’m sure he’ll come around.”

Bobby’s words gave her pause, his reassuring presence having a calming effect on her, and straightening up her beer bottle she sat down next to him.  “Did he say something to you?” she asked after a beat in silence thinking his words over.  “I mean, did he say he felt…” she swallowed the constriction in her throat, “Crowded?”

“No,” Bobby denied, his head shaking.  “Ally, no.  He didn’t.  That’s not what I meant at all.  But I’ve known him a long time,” he added, chuckling softly to himself.  “When he gets in that mood of his, it’s best to stay out of the way.  He just needs to figure stuff out for himself, get his head straight.”

Tucking her legs underneath her for comfort, Ally cast worried eyes toward the house and nodded her head. 

“You’ve done a much better job keeping him sober than I ever did, that’s for sure.  And maybe I didn’t try hard enough.  But he’s come a long way, and now, you just got to…trust that…that he’ll do the right thing.”

She gave a sad laugh.  “How can I trust him—how can you say that after last night?”

Bobby didn’t reply for a long moment, and when he did his voice was quiet, introspective.  “That’s a tough one.  But if you want my two cents’ worth, I think last night was the wake-up call he needed.”

She turned to look at Bobby.  “Did he say something to you?” she asked hesitantly.

Bobby shook his head softly.  “No, not much.  Not in so many words, but he was sorry.  He is sorry for what happened.  I believe that.”  His eyes filled suddenly, and when he looked away toward the woods beyond she knew there was more he wasn’t telling her. 

“Did he tell you we’re going to have a pool built?” she said, with fake levity, needing to change the subject.

Bobby registered a look of surprise, winced as he took another sip of his drink.  “What here, in the backyard?”

She gave a soft nod.

He chuckled.  “No, I can’t say that he did.”

“I’m hoping it’ll help him, you know?  Like it did when he was in rehab.”

“It’s a good idea.”  Bobby ran his gaze over the yard.  “It might mean cutting down some of the trees though.”

Ally gave a nod.

Bobby turned toward her decisively.  “I know a good contractor, if you’re interested.  I’ll text you his number.”

Ally brightened up.  “Sure.  Thank you.”

They lapsed into companionable silence and sat there side by side, lost in their own thoughts, for a long moment, until Bobby shifted beside her, picking up both his and her empty beer bottles off the ground as he pushed to his feet.  “Come on,” he then said, “Let’s go inside.  He’s had long enough and I’m hungry.”

They followed the smell of cooking all the way to the kitchen.  Jackson was at the stove, adding chopped green and red bell peppers to ground beef and onions already frying in a deep skillet. He gave the mixture a stir, added a can of chopped tomatoes.  A couple of empty alcohol-free beer bottles lay discarded on the side.  Ally closed her arms around him from behind and, trying to impart strength and support, and much love and affection, leaned her head against his shoulder.  Charlie was watching, guarding, from his basket.  

“Chili,” Bobby said, rubbing his hands with glee.  “My favourite.”

“Mine too,” she said, pulling away from Jack.

Jackson didn’t speak, and sharing a long look she and Bobby followed his cue.  Wordlessly, they set the table and, while Bobby made fresh drinks for everyone, she grated cheese.  Bobby chuckled unexpectedly, then began regaling them a few tales of touring with Willie.  She gave him a warm smile, grateful for his support.  Jackson made a few comments, but he was gloomy and distracted. 

“Oh, this is good, Jack,” Bobby said, his mouth full when finally the three sat down to eat.  “Thank you.”

Jack gave a nod, a stiff smile, before he started shovelling food into his mouth.  Pleased to see that he hadn’t lost his appetite, Ally put grated cheese over hers and began eating. 

“Jack and I are going on a road trip tomorrow,” she then said, chewing, concerned eyes flicking to Jack as she spoke to Bobby.

“Oh, yeah?”

Ally refocused on Bobby.  He was watching Jackson warily, and she sighed.  “I thought we might go for a ride along the PCH, stop somewhere for a picnic.”

“I know this great spot,” Bobby said, turning his attention back to her before bringing another forkful of chili to his mouth. “Point Mugu State Park.  Get Jack to take you there.”

She brought more food to her mouth.  “I’ve never heard of the place.” 

“It’s beautiful, Ally, and quiet.  You got the ocean on one side and chaparral-covered mountains on the other.”  

She smiled.  “You sound just like a tour guide.”

He laughed.  “Well, listen to this then.  If you’re lucky, you’ll spot seals and dolphins, whales even.  And the beaches…You got five miles of beautiful oceanfront beaches.”

“I didn’t know you liked the beach.”

Bobby gave an easy shrug.  “I’m not much of a swimmer, not like Jackson here, but I like walking along the shore, you know, dig my feet into the wet sand, feel the ocean breeze in my hair…”  He let his words trail off, waggled his brow and then gave a wide smile.

“You heard that, Jack?” Ally said, laughing.

Jackson looked up with a start, refocusing on the pair as though he’d forgotten that they were there.

“You okay?” she asked in a whisper, her smile fading.

“Sure.  Sorry.  I was….”  He gave his head a shake, tried an unconvincing smile. 

“Bobby suggested we went to Point Mugu tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” he repeated, clearly puzzled.

She sighed.  “The trip out on the bike?”

Scrunching his eyes shut, Jackson rubbed at his temple wearily.  "Sure," he replied distractedly, and resumed eating.

Ally and Bobby shared a look and wordlessly continued eating too.  When he finished his plate, Jackson got up from his seat, and she watched as he opened and shut drawers impatiently.

“What are you looking for?” she asked.

He opened one last drawer, took out a battered packet of cigarettes.  Finding a lighter, he took a cigarette out, lit it with shaky fingers and leaning against the kitchen island closed his eyes and took a long drag.  Ally watched powerlessly, then looked over at Bobby who sighed. 

“Jack—” she said pleadingly.

“What?” he snapped.

Her expression darkened angrily.  She stood up, walked up to him decisively, then pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and ran it under the cold tap.  “There!” she said, turning back around.  “You want a fight, then you’ve fucking got one!”

He was about to say something when he glanced at Bobby.  He flicked his eyes back to Ally before turning on his heels and heading out of the door.

“Jack—” she called after him, her anger dissipating as quickly as it had flared. 

Bobby finished his drink.  “Sweetie, I think that’s my cue,” he then said, pushing to his feet.

“I’m sorry,” she told Bobby, tears in her eyes.  “I didn’t mean to…”  She clamped her jaw shut.  “It’s just—he’s just so fucking infuriating!  Smoking makes the tinnitus worse.  He _knows_ that.”

“So does the booze, and the drugs.  It never stopped him in the past.”  Bobby paused, checked himself.  “You hang in there, Ally,” he then said, patting his hand to her shoulder supportively. “He’s making progress.”

Scoffing in disbelief, she hooked a thumb toward the rest of the house.  “You think that’s progress?”

He chuckled.  “He sat through the meal, didn’t he?  Hell, he even cooked it, and completely sober at that.  I’d say that’s progress.”  Leaning down, he bussed her on the cheek.  “Thank you for having me over.”

Her expression softened.  “You two managed to clear the air, didn’t you?”

“We did.  We did, and I thank you for that too.”

He squeezed her shoulder, and she gave him a smile.   “I’m sorry I spoiled tonight,” she said.

“You didn’t spoil tonight.  Jackson did.”

After Bobby left, she packaged the leftovers and put them in the fridge, then she cleared the kitchen, tossing the packet of cigarettes in the trash, before she went looking for Jack.  He wasn’t in the house, and when she looked through the living room window she found him sitting on the couch in the darkened backyard.  She went to get a sweater and joined him there.  He was leaning forward, head bowed down in his hands. She sat down next to him and stroked her hand to his back tenderly. 

“Jack, talk to me, please,” she said quietly, reproach-free, “You angry I fired Rez, is that it?  I thought you’d be pleased.  You never liked him.  You never liked—”

“I don’t like him, you’re right,” he cut in, whipping his head up.  “And I don’t like what he represents.”  He let out a heavy breath, stood up and began to pace.  “I may not like the direction he takes you, but he’s made you into a star in your own right.  He’s given you confidence in yourself, the confidence to shine.”

“ _You_ did that.  Not Rez.”

“Maybe at the start, yes, I gave you a stage, but the rest…the rest you did – you and Rez.”  His eyes filled unexpectedly, and he wiped at them angrily.  “Like it or not, Rez has given you your own voice, Ally, your own sound, which is something you’d never have had if you’d stayed in my shadow.” 

“That’s not true."

“I hate what you’ve done, Ally,” he went on, speaking over her words.  He clamped his mouth shut and balled his hand into a tight fist.  “I hate that yet again you’re risking it all because of me.  Because I’m so fucking weak.”

“You’re not weak,” she defended, getting up and taking his hand. 

“What about your album?” he countered, pulling his hand away.  “You can’t stop half-way through promoting it!”  He wiped at his eyes again.  “And you’ve worked so hard for it.  So damn hard.  And it’s so fucking beautiful. I can’t let you throw all that away.  Not for me.”  His voice cracked, and he looked away.

She reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.  Her voice was soft and tender as she spoke.  “I’m not throwing anything away,” she repeated forcefully.  “I’m just putting you first.”

His head shaking, he took a step back from her.  “How do you think that makes me feel?” he argued heatedly.  He looked up and met her gaze dead on.  The desperation and wretchedness in his voice, in his watery eyes, tugged at her heart.  “Knowing you’re risking—fucking sacrificing yourself for a fuck-up like me.”

Holding his gaze, she leaned forward.  “You are not a fuck-up.” 

He rubbed a heavy fist to his head while pacing again, and she understood then that the negative thoughts in his heads were winning.  “Rez is fucking right,” he muttered.  “I’m no good for you.” 

Unsure how best to get through to him, she watched him fearfully. 

He gave a sad laugh, almost a sob, then ran a shaky hand through his hair.  “I need a drink.  I need a fucking drink.” 

She grabbed his arm.  “No, you don’t.  You’re doing fine.  Jack, listen to me.  I got it all figured out.  I was thinking that maybe _you_ could manage me.”

He turned wide, incredulous eyes toward her.  “Manage you?”  He gave another sad, humourless laugh.  “Ally, are you out of your fucking mind?  First, you ask me to write songs for you and I’m thinking…okay, maybe I can do that.  I can’t write a pop song to save my life but maybe I can try.  And now you’re asking me to manage you?”  His voice rose in anger, in frustration and misery.  “Ally, I couldn’t even fucking manage myself.  Hell, Bobby couldn’t either and God knows he fucking tried.” 

She reached out to him, but he raised his hand, keeping her at bay. 

“This is too much,” he said, walking away, “Too fucking much.” 

She thought he was headed indoors when he carried on up and around to the path leading up to the front of the house.  “Jack, where are you going?” she called, helplessly watching as he disappeared into the darkness out of sight.  “Jack?”

He didn’t reply.  He simply whistled for Charlie who made to follow him then stopped and looked at Ally uncertainly and then back in the direction Jack had taken.

“Go,” Ally said.  “Go with him.”

She had to trust he would be fine, that he just needed time and space to calm down and clear his head, but that ultimately he would be fine.  Wrapping her arms around herself, she dropped down onto the couch, tucked her legs underneath herself and waited for him to come back.  When he didn’t, she checked the house, and then the garage, but all was dark there, in place, his truck and motorbike accounted for.  When she grew cold, she went inside and sat down at the piano. And played.

When an hour later, he still hadn’t come back she went to bed.  She tried to remember if he was wearing his belt, reasoned that unlike the previous night he was sober and in full possession of his faculties. 

And when all else failed, she prayed. 

Prayed to God that he was winning the battle.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has more mature content, so read responsibly please especially as I labelled the overall story Teen and up.

Ally was sitting up in bed, writing in her notebook, when she heard a noise. Looking up, she pricked up her ears and listened. Jack’s hushed voice filled the silence, then a sliding door closing. She let out a breath. A smile formed on her lips, relief that he’d won that particular battle and made it back home safely. Not wanting him to feel guilty for keeping her up, she slid her pen and notebook under the bed, turned the bedside light off and feigned sleep. 

Charlie slipped through the gap in the door, then jumped up onto the bed and lay down on Jack’s pillow with his head next to hers. When she made no move to show she was awake, he shuffled a little closer. His shaggy fur, his warm breaths, tickled her face, and she giggled. She glanced toward the open door, watching for signs of Jack, but what she could see of the house was dark and quiet. 

He must have moved without making a sound because the light came on in the bathroom suddenly, the door shutting quietly afterwards. She waited, silent and still, in the dark, until turning the light off he came out again and padded over to the bedroom. She felt his gaze on her as he stood at the end of the bed for a moment, then walked around to his side and sat down on the edge of the mattress. She hadn’t closed the curtains, and she could clearly see his body silhouetted in the moonlight. 

With a sigh, he reached out his hand over Charlie and gently, ever so tenderly, stroked her cheek. His hand lingered there briefly, cold, reassuring. A wistful smile forming on his lips, he ran a feather-light finger from her forehead, down between her eyes, over the tip of her nose to her mouth. She repressed a shiver and, her lips pulling in a soft smile, kissed his finger.

“You’re not sleeping,” he whispered.

“Neither are you,” she replied, just as quietly. 

She heard, more than saw, his smile.

“What time is it?”

He brushed his thumb over her lips. “A little after twelve.”

“Your hands are cold. Where have you been?” she asked, with undisguised concern. “Out all this time?”

“Just out back, walking.”

She pushed up on an elbow. “In the hills?”

He sighed, nodded his head. “I walked all the way to the creek, and just sat there, thinking things over.” 

She gave him a nod, another soft smile. “I was worried,” she said. Her tone, although anxious, was devoid of reproach.

He pushed a little hair away from her eyes. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

“You feeling better?”

Smiling, he nodded his reply and stroked his hand to her face again. “I’m sorry about before,” he went on, in a gravelly whisper. “I just got so frustrated, and the fucking thoughts—” He closed his eyes and gave his head a shake and, sitting up, she covered his mouth with her hand.

“You won the battle,” she simply said. “That’s all that matters.”

His smile was tender, his nod firm and decisive. “I didn’t mean half the stuff I said to you. I—”

“Only half?” she queried playfully, cutting him off. Her smile faded. “I’m sorry too. For moving too fast, for pushing too hard.”

“I should have handled it better.”

“But don’t you see?” she insisted. “You got upset, but you didn’t hit the bottle.”

“I could have. I would have if…you and Bobby hadn’t been there.”

“But you didn’t.” She patted her hand to his leg comfortingly. “Jack, you didn’t.”

He sighed, then nodded his head. “I came pretty damn close though.”

“You stayed strong.”

Again he gave a nod, then he paused, clearly conflicted. “Listen, about Rez…”

Touching her index finger to his lips, she shook her head softly. “I don’t want to talk about Rez right now, okay?”

He remained silent for a moment. “Thank you,” he then said, his voice cracking.

She frowned. “What for?”

His shoulder lifted. “For being you. For being so forgiving and not giving up on me, even when I’m a fucking asshole to you.”

Tears built, prickling at the back of her eyes. “Come here,” she said, her face softening tenderly as she held her hand out to him. He fell into her embrace, and she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, holding on to him as much as he clung to her, stroking her hand to his back comfortingly, happy and relieved that finally he was safe and in her arms. “I’m proud of you. So very proud of you.” 

He pulled back from her slightly. “Ally, I—”

“Come to bed,” she told him in a whisper, “It’s late. We can talk tomorrow.”

He paused, nodded then leaned across to kiss her on the mouth. “I will, in a minute. There’s something I got to do first. I just…wanted—needed to see you were all right.”

She smiled up at him. “I’m all right.”

He watched her tenderly for a beat before he pushed to his feet. 

“Jack?”

He looked over his shoulder. “I won’t be long. Go back to sleep.”

She watched him go, and then listened intently for sounds and noises but nothing indicated that he’d left the house again. Charlie stayed with her, and she lay back down, burying deep under the sheet to ward off the chill. She tried to stay awake until he came to bed, but her eyes grew heavy and she drifted off. When she next woke, the space beside her was still empty except for Charlie curled up on Jack’s pillow, snoring softly. 

It was still night outside, and she got up and padded barefoot in search of Jack. A side light was on in the kitchen and she followed it, finding him at the table, writing. Sheets of paper were scattered in front of him, and when she ventured closer she realised he was writing lyrics. Draping her arms around his shoulders from behind, she pressed her lips to the side of his neck. Startling, Jack stopped writing.

“What are you writing?” she asked, peering at the text over his shoulder.

Quickly, he gathered up the sheets into a pile before she could take a good look.

“Nothing,” he said, furtive, but the smile tugging at his lips belied his words. 

Her gaze expectant, she turned her face to look at him. 

He kissed her lips and stood up, forcing her to release her grip around his shoulders. 

“Jack?”

“It’s just an idea that came to me while I was out walking.”

“For a song?”

“Maybe.” His smile widening wickedly, he folded the sheets of paper and stuffed them in his back pocket.

She stared at him with disbelief. “You’re not going to show me?”

“Nope,” he said, shaking his head as he moved past her. “Not until it’s finished.”

A wide smile broke across her face. For him to be writing again was a good sign. It didn’t matter what it was, whether he was writing for himself or for her, or even whether the song was ever sung, she knew the process to be therapeutic in itself, for her anyway, and she hoped it would be for him too. Maybe putting his thoughts and feelings, his emotions and struggles, down on paper would help him overcome them and stay sober.

“Come on,” she said, taking his hand as she walked past him, and leading him out of the door. “Come to bed.” 

In the darkened bedroom, he took off his T-shirt and when she helped him with his pants, she couldn’t help noticing that he wasn’t wearing his belt. She looked up and caught his eye, touched a fingertip to his nipple before closing the distance between them and pressing her lips to his chest. His breath caught, and slowly she trailed a kiss from one nipple to the other, while her hands stroked down the length of his thighs as she pushed his jeans down his legs. Without breaking the contact of her lips on his skin, she slid her hands under the waistband of his underpants and felt him, already growing hard and taut.

Again his breath caught. He let out a low moan, a groan of desire so raw, so primitive, that he pulled back from her and cupping her face took her mouth in a searing kiss. As they kissed, his hands left her face, sliding down her body and under the T-shirt she was wearing, brushing over her sex, her stomach, her breasts until she lifted her arms up and breaking the kiss he pulled her T-shirt up and over her head, letting it fall on the floor. Breathless, he paused.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he said, in an almost inaudible whisper, his eyes boring into hers.

Her chest heaved, once, twice, as she struggled to catch her breath. The blue of his eyes was so dark in the moonlight, darker than the deepest depths of the ocean, so dark that yet again she was getting lost in it. He held her gaze for long seconds before he leaned down and gently kissed her lips. His hands moved to cup her face, hers to his back as she returned the kiss with fervour. Without breaking apart, they moved to the bed, his erection twitching against her warm skin as he lay down over her.

Whimpering, Charlie jumped off the bed, and pulling apart they laughed. Their laughter petered off, and staring at her intently, solemnly, Jackson used the tip of his finger to brush hair back away from her eyes. Her mouth parted, her tongue darting out to lick her lower lip, and she watched as his eyes tracked its progress greedily. Looking back up to her eyes, he took a shuddering breath in. His fingers hovered over her eyes now, not quite making contact as they traced their outline, stroked down the side of her face, to her chin and neck before gliding back up to her parted lips. 

He brushed his index finger over the curve of her mouth, gasping as again her tongue came out and she touched the tip to his finger. Eyes locked, he took hold of her hands, gently raised them up above her head and held them there. Then he lowered his mouth to her chin, kissing, sucking and snaking slow, hungry kisses down her jaw line to the vast expanse of her neck, skimming over her heaving sternum, her breasts, her stomach, his kissing becoming more and more urgent the further down he went. 

Ally’s eyes were closed, her back arched up toward him, as the sensations built. Completely at his mercy, she could only writhe under him, rub herself to him, move this way and that, seeking more of his touch, of his mouth, lips and tongue, her pelvis and chest rising up and down in time with each rasping breath she took. She pulled at her hands, trying to free them of his strong grasp, needing to touch and stroke and tease him as much as he was doing to her, but he held her fast. 

“Open your eyes,” he commanded in a hoarse whisper.

Ally slowly did as bid. Holding her gaze, he began kissing his way back up, his lips skimming over the curve of her stomach, the swell of her breasts, his tongue darting out to stroke and brush at one nipple, then at the other. Watching him take pleasure in making her come alive was such a turn on. When he could hold her no more, he let go of her hands, and used one to bring one of her breasts to his mouth while he propped himself up with the other. When he began sucking at her breast, she closed her eyes again, the loud moan that came out of her mouth yearning and needy. 

She pushed against him and sat up, pulling his head up from her breasts and seeking his mouth for a long and hungry kiss while her hands stroked and teased his body as much as his had done moments before. Then she eased herself down onto him, used her hand to guide him inside her, deep inside her, lifting her pelvis and wrapping her legs around him until they made one. He put his hands on her waist, holding her to him, and eyes wide open they began moving, slowly at first before they gathered speed. 

Ally met each of his thrusts, her longing for him, her need for him, continuing to build, swelling in ever-growing waves inside her. Her moans, his moans, were one and the same, building up to a crescendo before they closed their eyes and let go. The thought of being loved by him, revered by him, the way he did, of being desired like that, left her breathless and wanting more. There was a passion there, an ardent desire, that never seemed fully sated.

Untangling himself, he began chuckling. She looked up to him with surprise, and he leaned across to kiss her lips. “That was fucking...” he chuckled again, letting his words trail.

She laughed. “It was, wasn’t it?”

Jack lay down on the bed with his head on the pillow Charlie had vacated, then opened his arm out to her and she snuggled up to him, feeling his clammy body against her skin as she draped herself over him. Letting out a satisfied breath, she kissed the side of his chest and closed her eyes, soon falling asleep to the beat of his heart racing under her cheek. 

When she woke up the next day, she was alone. Sunlight flooded the room, and she stretched contentedly before getting up and finding Jackson in the kitchen. He was fully dressed in his customary jeans, navy shirt and boots. The motorcycle saddlebags were on the table and he was packing food and drinks into them. A picnic blanket sat on the table, at the ready. Her face lit up with giddy excitement at the sight.

Feeling her presence, he looked up and smiled. “Oh, good, you’re awake.” He ran his gaze up and down her naked body, and cocked his brow appreciatively. “You got ten minutes to get ready before we hit the road.”

The smile on her lips was wide and dancing. Not needing to be told twice, Ally rushed back to the bedroom and quickly got dressed, putting on stretchy black pants and a cropped plaid shirt, socks and heeled biker boots on her feet. She rummaged in the closet and in drawers, gathering items she wanted to take with her, retrieved her notebook and pen from under the bed. She grabbed a towel she added to the pile, then finished getting ready in the bathroom. 

When backpack in hand, she finally went to find Jack, he was in the garage with Charlie, fixing the saddlebags to the Harley. She looked for signs that he was uncomfortable being in the garage but, if he was, he hid it well. Charlie looked over to her, his tail beating rather sedately as he came to greet her. 

“He’s not happy we’re going,” she said, bending down to ruffle his ears.

“I know. I got a treat for him. He’ll be fine until tonight, won’t you, Charlie?” And then redirecting his smile to Ally, “You ready?”

Nodding, she gave Charlie an extra stroke. Jack passed Ally her jacket and helmet, and she pushed to her feet to put them on. 

“Come on, buddy,” Jack called, headed back to the house, and more impatiently when the dog hesitated, “Charlie, come on!”

Charlie gave Ally one last look before he followed Jack’s command rather forlornly. She put on her jacket, her sunglasses, wrapped a scarf around her neck and mouth, then slipped her helmet on, taking care to do the chin strap properly. Returning, Jackson got ready too. Then he put on his gloves, got on the bike and started it. Ally shouldered the bulky backpack.

“What have you got in the bag?” he asked, looking bemused, shouting to be heard over the rumble of the engine.

“Just a few essentials,” she called back breezily.

He shook his head in disbelief. "Looks heavy to me. You may want to ditch some stuff. It's going to kill your back otherwise."

"No, I'm good."

"Alright," he said, smiling widely, and revved the engine. 

She waited until he got the bike out of the garage to close up and climb on. She put on her gloves, her feet on the passenger pegs, wrapped her arms around his waist tightly and, reaching his hand back to her leg, he opened the throttle. He rode slowly along the bumpy dirt track that led to the main road, then faster as gradually they left the more residential streets of Calabasas behind. They travelled down Old Topanga Canyon Road through hills, woods and canyons, before joining the Pacific Coast Highway at Topanga Beach and heading north. 

The further they rode, the further it felt like they were leaving their issues behind. The freedom that came with being on the open road, with the wind in their faces, with the smells of the changing scenery in their noses, emptied their minds of all thoughts and worries, of the pain. It was just the two of them, and the bike. It was all about the here and now, about the sensations, a combination of exhilaration and pleasure, of fear and anxiety. Before she met Jackson, she’d never ridden on a motorcycle, but now that she had she could see why he loved it do much. 

They were rounding a corner when the Harley began to lose power unexpectedly. Ally straightened up, and Jack slowly brought them to a stop at the side of the road. Swinging her leg over, Ally jumped off and he shut off the engine. She slipped the backpack off her shoulders and stretched her sore back.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, pulling her scarf down to uncover her mouth. “We out of gas?”

Jackson swung his hips from side to side, giving the bike a shake. “I don’t think so.”

She waited until a truck had gone past to talk again. “What then?”

Shrugging, he removed his helmet and his sunglasses, then peered up at her and beckoned her over. The smile on his face was wide, the twinkle in his eyes happy. 

“What?” she asked, somewhat disconcerted all of a sudden, as she stepped forward uncertainly. She wiped her gloved hands to her sunglasses. “Have I got bug guts smeared all over my face again?”

Laughing, he took a glove off and gently brushed his fingers to the dead bugs on her cheeks. “There,” he said, pulling his hand away, “All gone.” 

She smiled her thanks at him, then looked for a flat tyre, a broken part, something to explain why they'd stopped. “So what’s wrong with the bike?” she asked again.

“Nothing.” He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her closer, until she stood inches away from him. “Just wanted to kiss you, is all.”

And he did just that; a slow, leisurely kiss between husband and wife by the side of the road.

Much to the amusement of the other motorists honking their horns as they rushed by.


	6. Chapter 6

Jackson signalled, then slowed the motorcycle right down and turned into Point Mugu State Park. Sandwiched between Highway One and a long stretch of sandy beach, the parking lot wasn’t too busy and he pulled the bike up between two parked cars near the entrance. He spread his feet out on the ground and cut the engine. After swiftly dismounting, Ally stretched her back and took her helmet and scarf off. Ruffling her hair back into a semblance of style, she turned toward the beach and smiled. Bobby hadn’t lied; the place was stunning. Still sitting on the bike, Jack opened one of the saddlebags and took out a bottle of water he passed over to her.

“It’s beautiful here,” she said, taking the bottle and uncapping it.

A wistful smile on his lips, he turned to look at the ocean. “It is, isn’t it? And unchanged too.”

The onshore breeze at this point was strong enough to whip her hair about her face, and she held it back with one hand while she had a long drink of water and handed the bottle back to him. While he drank, she took off her jacket, draping it over the bike, and pulled her shirt out of her pants, tying the ends into a knot at the front, letting the ocean air cool her sweaty body. The sun was beating down on them, and she opened her backpack and took out his hat and a navy ballcap for herself.

“Well, that explains it,” he said, laughing as he took the hat from her with a grateful nod. Wincing, he put it on his head. “Worried we might get spotted?”

Too close to the truth for comfort, she shrugged her shoulder in reply. “Still sore?” she then asked, glancing toward the purpling bruise on his temple.

He touched his fingers to it. “Only ‘cause the hat’s too damn tight,” he said, in good humour.

Her head shaking, she tied her hair back in a ponytail, which she threaded through the gap at the back of the cap.

“Tada,” he said, magician-like, smiling widely as he conjured up two green apples out of the saddlebags.

“Lunch?” she questioned with a wry lift of her brow.

“Appetiser,” he amended. He rubbed one of the apples against his thigh, presented it to her, then took a big hearty bite out of his.

Laughing, she took the proffered apple and did the same.

He patted his hand to his breast, checking for his wallet inside his jacket’s pocket, then took another bite of apple. “I’m going to go pay,” he said, chewing, motioning toward the parking metre.

Ally nodded, then turned back toward the beach and munched on her apple. The breeze brought the smell of the ocean to her, and she took a deep cleansing breath in. It was so calm and peaceful here, the gentle back and forth motion of the water lapping at the shore soothing already, almost therapeutic. The water was calm, not quite flat, but almost, and a few body boarders waited waist deep in water for the perfect wave that might never come. She strained her eyes trying to make out seals or dolphins ahead in the distance, but saw none.

“You know, I was thinking,” he called as he returned. She looked over to him, and he draped a lazy arm around her shoulders. “You should learn to ride.”

It took her a couple of seconds to latch on to his train of thought. “A motorcycle?” she said, scoffing in disbelief.

“Yeah.”

“No,” she said, with a forceful shake of the head. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” he asked, surprised. “It’d be fun. You and me, side by side, on the open road.”

“I—I’m not…I wouldn’t be—I’d much rather ride with you, behind you, I mean. I feel safer there.”

“It’s not the same.”

She shrugged. “I’m too short anyway.”

“They make bikes for small people,” he insisted, a teasing smile dancing on his lips. “Hell, I’m sure they even make a Harley for the shorter rider.”

“Ha, ha,” she deadpanned, and punched his arm playfully.

“Think about it,” he went on, squeezing her to him tenderly. “I know you would love it.”

Jack locked the bike and the helmets to it, and they set off down the concrete path leading to the beach. Ally put her apple core in a trashcan, and Jackson sat on a low wall to take off his boots and socks. Then he rolled up his pant legs mid-calf, and laughing she followed his cue. She couldn’t remember a time when they were so free and carefree together, not for many months anyway. When they were ready, he slung the saddlebags over his shoulder, and holding both boots with his left hand held out his right hand to her. A wide, happy smile on her lips she took it, and they walked down the beach to the water’s edge.

“Thank you,” she said, turning her face up to him.

He frowned. “What for?”

“For today. For bringing me here. It’s perfect.”

Nodding, he gave her hand a warm squeeze, then turned his gaze back toward the ocean. She watched as he looked left, then right and stared at the vast expanse of blue green water stretching up ahead as far as the eye could see. He looked relaxed, happy, a far cry from the scared man of the previous days.

“I haven’t been here in over twenty years,” he said quietly, introspectively, after a while in silence. “It was before I made it big anyways.”

She wanted to ask him about it, but she decided not to push, knew that he would open up in due course. He nodded that they should walk on, and they set off again, hand in hand, strolling along the water’s edge, their feet making parallel tracks in the wet sand. They’d been walking, silent and content, for a good five minutes when Jack chuckled unexpectedly.

“What is it?” she asked, smiling over at him.

He didn’t reply for long seconds. A smile lingered on his lips, his eyes were distant, wistful, as he stared straight ahead, and she knew he was lost in a happy memory.

“Bobby and I,” he finally said, “We—well, we used to come here. He’d take me here once, twice a year maybe? After Dad was gone? Called it a little brotherly bonding.” He laughed again and, turning to look at her, pointed to a point over to their right toward the mountains. “There’s a campground a few miles up the road. Or there was anyway. We’d stay there for a couple of days and he’d make me hike the trails.” His smile faded as he met her gaze. “Seems a lifetime ago now.”

She smiled up at him. “You should do it again,” she said. “You and Bobby. You should come again. I know he’d love that.”

He made a musing sound, as though unconvinced by the idea. “Maybe.”

The beach narrowed, rockier at this point, and when they reached a small cove they stopped.

“How about here?” he asked. “It’s sheltered from the wind, and away from the crowds and noise of the road.”

“Here’s good.”

They dumped their load, and while Ally located her phone Jack stretched his arms up high and wide. He took off his shirt, and Ally allowed her eyes to roam over his toned body. Crouching down, he reached inside one of the saddlebags and took out the picnic blanket, lay it out and then sat down on it while Ally checked her phone. She had two missed calls and one voicemail from Rez, and a text message from Bobby she opened. In it, he gave her the name and number of a contractor for the pool and asked if everything was okay.

_All good_ , she texted back. _Spending the day at Point Mugu after all. Thanks for the info._

“Who are you writing to?” Jackson asked, taking a sip of water.

She put her phone back in the bag. “Just replying to a text from Bobby.”

He scoffed. “Checking up on me, is he?”

“No,” she replied easily. “He sent me the number for the contractor, that’s all. For the pool, remember?”

Dropping the bottle by Ally’s feet, he made another non-committal sound and turned to look at the ocean. She rummaged in her bag for the strapless T-shirt she’d packed and changed into it. The sun was warm on her skin and tilting her face skyward she closed her eyes. When she reopened then, Jackson was still staring forward, a faraway look on his face. Wondering what had him so transfixed, she followed his eye line but saw nothing of interest there except for endless blue.

Feeling her skin starting to burn, she reached into her bag for the sunscreen. “Can you put sunscreen on my shoulders?” she asked, holding the bottle out to him.

Jack refocused on her with a start, but when he saw the bottle in her hand, his face lit up gleefully. Sitting up, he beckoned her over and she sat down between his legs. She tucked her ponytail in the cap out of the way and after kissing her nape he gently lifted the gold chain around her neck and sprayed sunscreen onto her back and shoulders. Closing her eyes, Ally dipped her head and enjoyed the feel of his hands as he worked the lotion into her skin. She reached back her hand to his leg and stroked it lovingly. When he finished, he wrapped his arms around her waist and dropping his chin onto her shoulder held her to him. They stayed a long moment like that, immobile and silent, watching the ocean and the few people walking along the shore.

“Turn around so I can do your front too,” he then whispered into her ear. “Or you’ll burn.”

Her head shaking at how obvious he was being, she turned her face toward him. He winked at her, and they shared a long smile. She turned in his arms, offering him her front, and moving back a little he sprayed a little lotion onto her skin and gently massaged it in. A German shepherd ambled over to them, sniffing at the rocks nearby before coming over to say hello. Holding out a careful hand, Ally smiled and gave his ears a stroke. His master gave out a shrill whistle and the dog bounded away.

“Charlie would love it here,” she said, turning back toward Jackson. “Maybe, instead of a bike for me, we should get a sidecar.”

Jack gave a deep booming laugh. “What, for Charlie?”

“Sure. Why not? We could get him his own little helmet, you know?”

Jackson chuckled. “Goggles too?”

She elbowed him in the stomach. “Why not?”

Jackson’s smile morphed into a frown suddenly. “Something’s buzzing in your bag,” he said, nodding toward her backpack.

“You heard that?” she asked, surprised.

He shrugged.

She slid the backpack over, located the phone in the front pocket and checked the screen. With a sigh, she sent the call to voicemail and slid the phone back in the pocket.

“Who was it?” he asked. “Not Bobby, or you’d have picked up.”

She sighed, hesitating to tell him the truth and risk ruining their day.

His brow furrowed. “Ally?”

“It was Rez,” she admitted reluctantly.

She met his gaze, and he nodded that he understood. He scratched at the side of his head uneasily, tried to sound casual as he said, “Maybe you should, I don’t know, hear what he has to say.”

“I know what he has to say.” Her tone was firm, decisive. “And I’ve said everything I wanted to.”

Jack sighed.

“Please, Jack, can we not do this now? We’re having a lovely time and I don’t want Rez to spoil it.”

“He won’t,” he said confidently. “I won’t let him, I promise you. But—”

Disgruntled with where the conversation was headed, she turned away from him.

“Ally, listen. Just listen to what I have to say, please. Hear me out.”

Letting out a long breath, she nodded her head resignedly.

“I can’t manage you, or promote you, like you asked. I couldn’t do it, not like Rez can, and if I’m being totally truthful with you, which is what you asked me to be, I don’t want to either, I’m sorry.”

She flicked her gaze down to hide her disappointment.

Reaching for her hand, he gave it a strong squeeze. “It’s not that I don’t want to work with you again, because I do, but…you got to see it from my point of you, Ally. Right now, I’ve got too much going on. I got to sort myself out, get my shit together.” He tilted her chin up with a soft finger and smiled. “I want what’s best for you, you know that, right? I’ve always done, even if sometimes it didn’t look like it. And right now, as far as your career’s concerned, I’m not it.”

She gave him a small, watery smile. “I disagree.”

He opened his mouth only to shut it again hesitantly. “I want you to call Rez, Ally,” he went on after a beat in silence. His voice was soft and intimate, a barely audible whisper. “Do it for me, please, if not for yourself.”

She set her jaw in resolve. “I’m not apologising for what I said to him.”

“Honey, I’m not asking you to.” He gave her a smile. “You’re in control here; he’s not. You call the shots and he knows it, which is why he’s been calling you. Without you, he’s fucking nothing. He’s sitting on what you said, hoping you’ll change your mind.”

“I won’t. What he said to you, Jack. What he pushed you to do…I can _never_ forgive him for that.”

Jack’s gaze lowered. “He was only protecting you.”

“He was protecting his investment. Because that’s all I am to him, Jack. A fucking investment.”

“That’s showbusiness for you." He paused. "Rez is an ass, Ally, we agree on that. But he’s right. You got to bide your time until you’re done promoting your album. You got what? One more song to release as a single? Do the rounds, the interviews and TV appearances. Once this album is out of the way, then it’s a whole new ballgame.”

His words gave her pause. She knew he was right, even if she was loath to admit it.

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” he said, excited now, almost passionate. “You’re going to call him and tell him you need some time off. A couple of weeks, a month. It’s up to you. And then—”

“I’m not going on tour,” she cut in resolutely.

“No tour,” he agreed.

She sighed. “I’ll do it on one condition,” she said before he could talk again. “After this album, Rez is no more.”

“That’s entirely up to you.”

“And in the meantime, we write songs together again.”

“That’s two conditions.”

She smiled despite herself. “And they’re non-negotiable.”

“Deal,” he finally said, “But I need you to promise me you’ll do it, Ally.” He let out a breath; he was looking agitated now. “I don’t want—I _cannot_ be the cause of the two of you going your separate ways. Not right now. I don’t think I could cope—I could _not_ live with myself knowing I was the cause—knowing I’d led you to fail.”

“I’m not going to fail, Jack.” Even to her own ears, she sounded more confident than she felt.

He gave her a trembling smile. “You’re starting off what could be a long and beautiful career, and I don’t want you to fuck it up because of me.”

She nodded her head. “I just…” The tears that had built during his valiant speech were threatening to spill, and she scrunched her eyes shut.

“Hey, hey,” he said soothingly, closing the distance and taking her in her arms. “It’s all going to work out, okay?”

She wiped at her eyes under her sunglasses.

“Don’t worry about me so much,” he whispered in her hair. “I’m going to be fine.”

Looking up with tears in her eyes, she gave him a nod.

“You and me, we’re going to be just fine.” He gave her a bright smile, which she tried to return, but it was shaky. She knew he meant the words, but it was easy to say them when it was just the two of them, together away from the business, away from temptation. She wished they could have days at the beach every day, but that wasn’t real life. “No tears,” he said, lifting her sunglasses so he could wipe his thumbs to her eyes. “Today is a happy day.”

Forcing a smile, she gave him a nod and once again he closed his arms around her.

“I love you so much,” he said, pulling back. “So fucking much it’s unhealthy. You know that, right?”

Her smile broadened happily. “I know.”

Taking a deep breath in, he turned back toward the ocean, and she took a moment to compose herself. “You know what?” he said, turning back to her. “I really wish I’d thought this through and brought my trunks. The water’s perfect for a swim.” He cast a look up and down the beach. “Do you think anyone’d care if I went skinny dipping?”

“I’d care,” she replied, laughing. “You could always keep your underwear on.”

He pulled a face.

A teasing smile on her face, she dragged her backpack closer and removed the towel she’d packed for him. Inside, she’d rolled his board shorts and swimming goggles. “Or wear these?”

His face lit up.   “You’re an angel.”

Her smile was rather smug. “I know.”

Jumping to his feet, he snatched the shorts out of her hand. He checked the coast was clear and without wasting time stripped to his underpants. Turning his backside toward the ocean, he whipped down his boxer briefs, swiftly replacing them with the shorts. She passed the goggles to him. “I won’t be long,” he said, taking them as kneeling down in front of her he kissed her lips.

“What about lunch?” she called as he jogged off.

“When I get back.”

“Jack?”

“What?” he called, smiling as trotting backwards he turned toward her.

She pointed at her head and he laughed.

Retracing his steps, he took off his hat and put it on her head on top of her ball cap. “I won’t be long.”

She watched him jog his way over to the water. He went in ankle-deep without hesitation, then stopped. Turning toward her, he repressed a fake shiver and she laughed. He turned back to the ocean, walked in until he was waist-deep, wet and put the goggles on and dived in.   Resurfacing a few metres ahead, he looked over to her one last time. Smiling, he met her gaze and she waved happily.

For long minutes, she watched as he swam up and down staying parallel to the beach ten or so metres out. Then she took out her phone and listened to Rez’s voicemail. It was short and to the point. _Call me_ , he said, but the _Please_ he’d added as an afterthought before the message cut off told her Jack was right. She _was_ in control. She gave a sigh, thought Jack’s words over, tried to figure out a way to make it work with Rez. At a loss, she put her phone away and took out her notebook, lay down on her front and began to write.

The breeze turned to wind without her noticing. When she next looked up, there was a ripple on the water that hadn’t been there before and made it hard to distinguish shapes. She reached for her phone and checked the time. Jack had been gone over thirty minutes. She pushed to her feet fearfully, scanned the beach, the water for signs of him. The sun was shining high in front of her, and she raised her hand to shield her eyes and searched again. She began walking to the shore where he’d gone in and removed her sunglasses, squinting in the distance.

“Jack?”

Her heartbeat quickening, she raised onto her tiptoes and scanned her eyes to the water again, searching the troughs of the waves for his head, for the lifts of his arms pushing against the water as he swam. She could see nothing.

“Jack?”

She brought a closed fist to her mouth and swallowed hard, choking back her dread. She told herself not to panic, that he was a strong swimmer, that maybe the wind and current has taken him off course. She began to walk left, then changed her mind and went right.

“Oh, no,” she whispered suddenly, taking off at a run as images of what he’d tried to do two nights previously filled her mind. Tears sprung to her eyes, blurring her vision, and she wiped at them angrily. She tried to remember the last words he’d spoken to her, whether he’d given her a clue as to his mental wellbeing. But he’d looked happy and carefree, strong.

_No, no_ , she thought, her head shaking. She knew in her heart of hearts that he hadn’t done anything stupid. He’d just underestimated the strength of the current and got washed out to sea, that was all, or maybe got a cramp and into difficulty.

“Jack?” she called a third time, desperately, and turning around ran back for her phone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I checked online but couldn’t find names for the members of Jackson’s band in the film, which I know are played by Lukas Nelson and his band Promise of the Real. So, for Lukas’s character, I kept Lukas. I hope that’s okay with everyone. I’ll probably do the same for the other band members if they come into the story.

“Ally!”

Ally stopped dead in her tracks and, panting, whipped round toward the distant sound.  Coming from the opposite direction from where she’d expected, Jackson was running toward her, goggles in hand.  So intense was her relief at seeing him safe and sound that the tears she’d tried so hard to keep in finally spilled. 

“Ally, what’s wrong?” he called breathlessly, his expression fearful as he joined her side.  “Something happen?”

Breathing hard, she struggled to catch her breath.  “I—I thought…I thought…” she half-laughed, half-cried in disbelief.  Bringing her hand to her mouth, she shook her head and swallowed the constriction in her throat.  “When I couldn’t see you in the water anymore, I—I panicked.”  She wiped at her tears.  “I thought you’d—you’d gotten a cramp or something.  I thought you’d drowned!”

“Oh, Ally,” he said in a sigh, and opening his arms enveloped her in a powerful embrace. His hat came off her head as he held her close, and he caught it.  “I’m sorry I scared you.”  He hugged her to him, rubbing comforting circles on her back, for a long moment before he pulled back and peppered her face with kisses.  “Sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he went on, bending down to catch her watery gaze.  

“It’s okay,” she said in a small voice, stroking her hand to his face.  “It’s my fault.  I—”  She took in a deep, steadying breath she released slowly.

“I didn’t realise I’d be this long.  I just went to take a shower, wash the salt and sand off before I got dry and dressed again.  I should have told you I was going.  I—” Smiling, he gave his head a shake of disbelief.  “It was further than I remembered and—”  His gaze narrowed suddenly.  Pausing, he stared at her fearfully, before his expression became pained, almost tortured.  “Ally, no…”

Ally averted her gaze before he could read her like an open book, but the damage was already done.

“Oh, my God, Ally.”  He let out a short sigh, and took a couple of steps back, and then in a breath of disbelief, “No.”

Unable to lie to him, she looked up and lifted her shoulder in a small shrug.

“Oh, Sweetheart.”  He brought shaky hands to his face, tucked his hair behind his ears.  Looking distraught now, he didn’t meet her eye.  “Did you really think that I would—that I could—”

Calmer now, she covered his mouth with her hand.  “I panicked.  I overreacted.  Like I said, when I couldn’t see you anymore I thought the worst, I thought you’d gotten washed out to sea.”  Her eyes welled with tears again.  “The thought of losing you—”  

"Sshh," he soothed, his expression softening, “You're not going to lose me. I told you.  I’m not going anywhere.”  He swallowed.  “You believe me, don’t you?  When I say that—that…I’m not going to try anything ag—”

She raised her hand to his mouth, cutting him short.  “I believe you,” she said with conviction.

“I mean it, Ally,” he said, choking up. 

She stroked her hand to his bearded face lovingly.  “I know.”  She gave him a soft smile.  “I’m sorry I panicked.”

He held her stare for long seconds as if he needed to convince himself that she was speaking the truth and she hoped he could see that in her eyes.  Eventually, he gave her a smile.  Then he looked at his hand, plopped the hat on his head and straightened the ball cap on hers.  “I’m hungry,” he said, draping his arm around her shoulder.  “Come on, let’s go eat.”

Her smile returning, Ally slid her sunglasses back on her face.  They were walking back to where they’d left their stuff when they heard a very loud, very female and very telling, “Oh. My. God!” coming from behind them.

Ally’s heart sank.  Realising they’d been spotted, she quickened her step, making Jackson speed his up in the process.

“I told you it was him, Bill,” the voice said, closer now.  “I _knew_ it was him.  Could tell straightaway.” And then, more loudly and clearly amazed, “Jackson Maine!”

Jackson stopped in his tracks while Ally let out an inward sigh.  She was sure the woman’s phone was already pointed at them.  “No,” she said, pleadingly.  “Please don’t.  Just…let’s keep walking.”

“And what?  Pretend we haven’t heard her when the whole beach has?”  Smiling brightly, he released his hold on her.  “I need to make amends, remember?  And that’s part of it.”

Before she could reply and protest some more, Jackson put his rock star face on and turned to the woman.  As expected, her phone was out, pointed at them, but now that he was so close the woman wasn’t so forward anymore.  Her husband stood bored and uninterested a little back from her.

“Come on then,” Jackson told the woman jovially, draping his arm around her shoulders confidently, practisedly, “Let’s do one together.”

Ally watched while, a wide smile on her face, the woman raised her phone and took a picture of the two of them.  At that moment, Jack met Ally’s gaze and winked.  Laughing, she tried to see if his bruise was visible under the hat, but if it was she couldn’t tell. 

“Is that your wife over there?” the woman then asked, nodding toward Ally.

“Sure, it’s my wife,” Jackson said, beaming with pride, sounding almost hurt at the implication of the question.  “Ally!” he then called.  “Come on over.  Don’t be shy.”

When Ally shook her head in reply, Jackson made puppy dog eyes at her.  Normally, she would refuse, object at how intrusive, almost offensive, the whole process was, that they too were allowed their privacy even if they were in the limelight, but Jackson was so happy once again that she didn’t want to make a fuss.  Moving forward a little diffidently, she beckoned the husband over and the four of them posed for a selfie.  Afterwards, the woman looked at the picture and thanked Jackson and Ally, and as she waxed lyrical to her husband about the encounter, Ally and Jackson walked away. 

She realised then that this would be the first picture taken of the two of them together since the Grammys.  “You know that that picture will be all over the internet before we even get back to our stuff, right?” she said, giggling.

Grinning, Jackson bumped her shoulder teasingly.  “I’m counting on it.  Think of Rez’s face when he sees it.”

“Now,” she went on, giggling harder, “Can you imagine if you’d gone bare-assed?”

Jack’s laughter was low and rumbling.  “Missed a fucking trick there, didn’t I?”

She gave her head a disparaging shake and he tugged her to him happily.  When they got back to their things, Ally was relieved to see that nothing looked to be missing.  While she checked her backpack, Jackson lay down on the blanket.

“What were you writing in there?” he asked, curious as propping up onto his side he picked up her notebook.

Ally snatched the book out of his hand and stuffed it into her backpack.  “A story.”

He registered a look of surprise.  “A story?”

“Yeah, a story.”

“That’s all I’m getting.”

A wide smile broke across her face.  “Yeah. That’s all you’re getting.  For now.”

Head shaking, he picked up his sunglasses and put them on.  They shared the food, eating the sandwiches Jackson had prepared, finishing the bag of potato chips they’d started the previous evening, while sipping at the tepid water.  When after changing back into their street clothes they made their way back to the parking lot, they stopped at a kiosk by the visitors’ centre and bought ice creams.  Recognised there too, they posed for more photographs but Ally found that she didn’t mind so much anymore.  They were happy, at ease and content.

The ride home was uneventful, except for the sand between her toes, introspective as again Ally pondered her situation with Rez.  They stopped for gas and Ally stretched her legs.  Jackson returned from paying with a bottle of cold water they drank thirstily from.  Back home, he parked the bike away in the garage while she went to let Charlie out.  Waiting behind the door, the dog leapt up at her as soon as she went in and laughing she gave him a warm cuddle.  His whimpering tugged at her heart and made her feel guilty for the good time they’d had without him.

When Charlie went to find Jack, Ally dumped her stuff on the kitchen table.  The message light was flashing on the answerphone and she pressed the play button.  She listened to the automated voice announcing two new messages before Rez’s voice filled the ensuing silence.  Looking over her shoulder to make sure Jack wasn’t listening, she deleted the recording before it had time to play fully.  The second message followed, and she smiled on recognising Lukas’s voice.

“Jack?  Lukas, here.  Listen, buddy, I tried your cell but...”

Ally smiled.  Jack’s cell was out of charge, had been lying untouched on the bedside table since before rehab.

“The guys and I are meeting at Old Joe’s tomorrow night and, well, we were wondering if…you wanted to come along.” 

Hearing a sound, Ally turned and watched as listening Jackson dropped down onto a chair. 

“Bring Ally too,” Lukas was now saying, “if she’s free.  It’d be nice to catch up, you know?  It’s been a while.  Anyhow, I hope you’re both doing well and that you can make it.  Call me.”

The call cut off, and Ally watched Jack warily. He didn’t look up, he just stared unseeingly at a spot in front of him.  Something in his expression told her Lukas’s call was the last thing he expected.  Slowly, she covered the distance to him and smiled when he flicked his gaze up to her.

“You going to go?” she asked, taking his hand as she sat down next to him.

Rubbing at his eyes, he gave his head a shake.  “I don’t think so.”

“It’d be nice to catch up with the guys,” she offered, keeping her tone light and pleasant.

Again, he shook his head. 

“I’ll come,” she tried again.

“It’s not a good idea,” he said, dropping her hand as he pushed to his feet.  He moved to the fridge and took a beer out.  Pausing, he held it out to her and she shook her head.  With a heavy sigh, he closed the fridge door and twisted the cap off, which he tossed in the sink, and took a long swig of the non-alcoholic beverage.  Just when she thought things were finally getting better.

“They’re your friends, Jack.”

“I know,” he snapped, and then more softly, “I know.”  Pausing, he took another drink of his beer, then he checked the label and scoffed.  “I can’t go to Old Joe’s.  They’ll all be drinking and…”  His head shaking desolately, he scrunched his eyes shut. 

“Hey, hey…” Standing up, she joined his side and, wrapping her arms around his waist, leaned her head against his chest.  “It’s okay.”

“It’s too soon, Ally,” he went on, almost beseechingly. “I—I can’t…I wouldn’t be able to…”

_Trust yourself?_ she almost said.   _Control yourself?_  Instead, she pulled back from him and smiled reassuringly.  “It’s okay.  You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.  If you’re not ready, we won’t go.  They’ll understand.” 

He gave a reluctant nod.

And then it came to her, the perfect solution.  “Hey, why don’t we…get everyone to come around here instead?  Maybe we could grill food?  Invite Bobby, my father too.  Ramon?”

Jackson’s smile was very sad.  “Have a barbecue and no alcohol?”

“Why not?” she said, laughing.  

He pursed his face, but he’d perked up a little and she could tell he was considering the idea.

“Jack, they’re your friends.  They want to see you and spend time with you.  They’re reaching out.”  Pausing, she smiled encouragingly.  “It’s time to reach back to them.  They know the status quo.  They understand about addiction.  You’ll be on home turf.  It'll be easier to manage.”

He gave a long sigh.  “I don’t know if I can handle a party.”

“It wouldn’t be a party, Jack.  Just a gathering.  Our close friends and family.  Ten people max.  We’ll keep it casual.  Come as you are, bring a plate of food with you.  No alcohol.”

He smiled.  “And you think anyone’ll turn up?”

She punched his side playfully.  “They will _all_ turn up,” she said with conviction.

He rubbed his face uncertainly. “Okay,” he finally said, nodding his head.  “Okay.  Sure.  We can do that.  We can have everyone around.”   

Her smile broadened.  “That’s the spirit.”

“Just…not yet.”

“Jack—”

“I need a little time to—”

“Two weeks,” she said, cutting off his objection.  “That’s all you’re getting.”  Pushing on her tiptoes, she kissed his lips. "Trust me with this, will you?  It's going to be fine."

Jackson’s hands came up to her shoulders, and closing his eyes he held her to him for a long time.  She hoped she hadn’t jumped the gun and pushed for a reunion too quickly, but Lukas had made the first move and she hoped the meeting could kick-start, if not his career, then their writing music together again. 

“I need to take Charlie for a walk,” he said afterwards.  “You want to come?”

Realising he needed a little time to himself to take stock of the situation, Ally shook her head softly.  “I’m going to…grab a shower, if it’s okay, and wash the sand from between my toes.”

While she stood under the warm spray, she washed her hair and rehearsed out loud what she would tell Rez when she called him on the phone.  She’d dodged his calls long enough; it was time she took control of her future.  She would lay out her demands plain and simple. She would be firm and resolute but remain calm throughout.

She was brushing her hair when she caught her reflection in the mirror.  “Come on, Ally,” she told it, “No chickening out.  Do it now.”

She put her brush down and grabbed her robe from the hook.  Slipping it on, she went to the kitchen and retrieved her cell from the backpack.  She looked through the open sliding door but could see no signs of Jack or Charlie.  Before she could change her mind, she made the call and as it rang, once, twice, three times before Rez finally picked up sat down at the table.  Her heart was racing, and she took a deep, calming breath.

“Enjoyed your day at the beach, did you?” Rez said without preamble. He’d aimed for a casual tone but the annoyed, almost accusatory, edge to his voice gave his true feelings away.

“Very much so,” she replied, hoping her bright tone conveyed just how good a time she’d had.  “Thank you for asking.”

“Okay, so, now that we’re done with the pleasantries…have you come to your senses yet?”

_Come to my fucking senses?_ She opened her mouth, ready with the snappy remark, but held her tongue.  Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath.   _You’re in control_ , she told herself, _he’s not._

“Ally?” he called when silence stretched on the line.  “Ally?  You still there?”

“Are you done?” she asked.

“Done with what?”

“The fucking attitude.”

He sighed.  “What do you want?”

“You called me, remember?  But since you ask, I want to finish promoting the album as we talked about.  _My_ album with _my_ songs and _my_ music.  The one I worked damn hard for.” 

“I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement.”  The smarmy tone was back.

“I have conditions.”

He scoffed.  “Conditions?”

“Yes,” she said firmly, confidently, “Conditions.  And they’re non-negotiable.  So either you agree to them, or we stop right here.”

He let out a long breath. “What are those conditions?”

“First off, no tour.  I’m not going to Europe.” 

“Now, hold your horses.  I’ve been thinking of a solution.  What if Jack came with you on tour?”

“If only you’d fucking agreed to that when I asked in the first place,” she snapped, and bit her tongue.  She stood and began to pace.  “No European tour,” she repeated, returning to what she'd rehearsed.  “I don’t care what you have to say to explain.  Blame it on me, that’s fine.  Tell everyone that it’s not a good time for me right now, that I’m exhausted, that my husband and my marriage come first.  Actually, that’s exactly what you’re going to tell everyone. My husband and marriage come first.  Put a statement out and tell all my fans in Europe that I’m sorry and that I love them and that I’ll come next year, because I will.”  She was growing emotional, and pausing, she took a steadying breath.

There was a beat in silence.  “And here?”

Once again, she spoke slowly, assertively.  “We push back the release of the next single for the same reasons I stated before.  I’m taking time off all public appearances here too.”

“Time off?”  There was disbelief in Rez's tone.

“Yes, time off.”

“How much time off?”

She paused.  “Four weeks.”

“Four weeks!  Fuck, Ally, we can’t do that.” 

“We can and we will.” 

“It’s too much.  We’ll lose all momentum.  Four weeks is a lifetime in the music business.”

“It’s non-negotiable.”

“And after the four weeks?” he asked tersely.

“We release the final single and you schedule promos, interviews, TV shows and events, whatever you can get your hands on, as long as they’re in LA.”  She paused.  “These are my conditions, Rez.  You take them or leave them.  You’re lucky, I’m even making the call.”

“I’m lucky?”

“If Jack hadn’t pushed me to, I wouldn’t be speaking with you at all.”

“Jackson’s got a lot to answer for.”

“You need to start showing him some fucking respect.  I will never, ever forgive you for what you said to him, the way you went behind my back, Rez, that was low, cowardly.  That was the biggest mistake you ever made.  And if you ever talk to him like that again, or even speak of him like that, I will fucking kill you.”

Rez laughed, but his laughter sounded strained.  “Don’t be so melodramatic.  It's not becoming.”

“Fuck you, Rez.”  And she hung up the phone.

When she turned around, Jack stood at the door, leaning against the jamb, watching.  For a brief moment she feared his reaction, but his face softened until a smile appeared, growing wide and dancing on his lips.

“Too much?” she asked.

“Fucking perfect.” 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics Jackson quotes as his own in this chapter are from the song ‘Dope’ by Lady Gaga. They’re in italics. The music he plays on the electric guitar, as I hear it in my head, is Paul Hurley’s arrangement of the same song, which you can listen to on YouTube.

“You look…lovely,” Jackson said, coming up behind her as she put a pair of hooped earrings on.

Looking up, Ally caught Jack’s eyes in the mirror and smiled.  She had kept her hair down and put on a knee-length, white summer dress with a yellow tropical print. The spaghetti-straps emphasised her newly bronzed shoulders perfectly. Her toenails were freshly painted black, and she’d bought a new pair of sandals for the occasion when they’d last gone into town. Holding her gaze in the mirror, he brushed the strap aside and slowly brought his mouth down to kiss her shoulder. 

She stiffened.  Her smile wavered uncertainly as she glanced down at the dressing table and picked up her hairbrush.  “I should…finish getting ready,” she said, looking back up.

Jack stopped in his tracks abruptly.  Pulling back, he nodded his head and, even though it didn’t need doing, she started brushing her hair again. “You okay?” he asked, tender eyes watching her with concern.

“Sure,” she replied, plastering a smile on her face as she pushed to her feet.  “I’m just…a little worried about today, you know?”

His expression relaxed.  “It’s going to be fine,” he said, tapping his index finger to the tip of her nose.  “I got it all under control.”

She couldn’t help cheer up at his happy mood.  He’d been doing so much better lately, she thought with a pang of sadness.  So much better.  He’d started seeing a therapist again, one he went to a couple of times a week, and his confidence was already growing.  He seemed less agitated somehow, calmer with his life choices.  That said, today would be his first real test.  Meeting up with his friends – friends that shared in the same past lifestyle of hard drinking and partying – was bound to be daunting for him, even if he hid it well. 

They’d kept themselves relatively sheltered and isolated those past two weeks.  There’d been no stressful situations, no reasons for his negative thoughts and feelings to resurface – well, as far as she knew anyway.  It was as though they’d been living suspended in time, but she knew it was only a matter of time before his resolve was tested again.  According the AA internet forum she lurked, he was at the second stage of recovery – the honeymoon stage.  Stage two out of five, with relapse sadly still in the cards.

“The meat’s ready,” he said, business-like now, and she drew herself back to the moment, “and I’ve got all the drinks cooling.  You need help with the rest of the food?”

“No, I’m good.  Dad said he’d come early to help.  He’s bringing ciabattas, hamburger buns and rolls and stuff.  I just got to make some salads.”

“Okay.  So I’m going to go and find the grill.  I don’t think it’s seen the light of day in years.”  He winced. “I’m not even sure there’s any gas left in it.”

Her face fell. She opened her mouth, but he cut her off with a kiss before she could complain.

“I know, I know,” he said, pre-empting her next words.  “I said I’d do it yesterday, but I got busy.”

With a resigned sigh, she nodded her head before reaching over to straighten his shirt collar.  “Don’t forget to put up the parasols,” she said, looking backup. “It’s going to be a hot day.”

Grinning, he tapped two fingers to his temple in salute.  “Yes, Ma’am.”  He closed his arms around her for another kiss.  “It’s going to be fine,” he said again, and she wondered who it was he was trying to convince.

While Jack disappeared outside, Ally got busy in the kitchen, gathering dishes, utensils and ingredients, chopping vegetable after vegetable. She was mixing her father’s famous bruschetta topping when there was a knock on the open plate glass window. 

“Hello Sweetie.”

Looking over, she smiled on seeing her father.  He wore a light blue shirt, open at the neck, behind the big plastic container he was carrying, and cream chinos.  She’d forgotten how different and handsome he looked when he wasn’t wearing his driver’s uniform. 

“You like what you see?” he asked, his brow waggling teasingly.

She laughed.  “Come on in, Dad,” she said. “You can put the box over there on the table.”  She indicated a corner of the table that was free and watched as her father did as bid.  “Where’s Ramon?  I thought you said you were bringing him.”

“I did.” She leaned over and Lorenzo bussed her cheek before dipping a finger in the bruschetta mixture and bringing it to his mouth.  “Needs more garlic,” he said.  “You got more garlic?”

“I do,” she said, her lips twisting at the rebuke and wordlessly reached for another clove she immediately began to peel.

“I left Ramon in the garage, drooling over Jackson’s motorcycle,” Lorenzo said, watching over her shoulder to check she was chopping the garlic finely enough.

“Jackson’s with him?”

Lorenzo rolled up his sleeves.  “I don’t know.  I didn’t see him if he was.  You got another apron?  I put on a new shirt especially for the occasion.”

Ally’s smile returning, she reached inside a drawer for an apron for her father.  The two of them had always worked well in the kitchen together – Lorenzo liked to boast that he’d taught her everything she knew – and with her father now helping she found herself relaxing. She reached for a tomato and sliced it in half.

“You’re looking good, Ally,” Lorenzo said unexpectedly.  He was slicing bread for the bruschetta. “Tanned, healthy…”

He gave her a long sideways look, and she frowned.  “As opposed to pasty and gaunt?” she retorted, laughing.

“You said it,” he replied, his expression softening.

She shrugged.  “Jack and I are spending a lot of time outdoors right now, walking with Charlie or riding on the bike.”

Lorenzo’s gaze was as soft and loving as his smile.  “It suits you.”

Ally’s smile lingered briefly before she refocused with a start on her chopping.  “And Wolfie and the guys?” she asked, preferring to change tack than talk about herself. “How are they?”

“They’re good,” Lorenzo replied, and then more pensively, “You know, same old, same old.”  Turning back to slicing bread, he chuckled unexpectedly.  “But wait until you hear this one.  Matty’s gone and gotten himself a lady friend, can you believe it?”

She giggled.  “And you?” she asked, her expression turning serious again.  “You got yourself a lady friend?”

“Ah, you know.”  His shoulder rising, he kept his eyes on his task.  “I’m too busy with work, and the guys.  And I’ve got you.  I don’t need anyone.”  He paused, and with a sigh turned to look at her.  “I’ve missed you though.”

Her face softened.  “I’ve missed you too.  I’m sorry I haven’t come home in a while.”

“Hey, it’s okay.  You got your own life to live.”

“It’s just that—”

“You’ve been busy.  Sweetie, I get it.  You don’t need to explain.”  He batted his hand dismissively.  “Ah, don’t worry about your old man.  He’s doing fine.”  He laid the sliced bread out onto a tray ready to go in the oven for toasting.  “What about Jackson?  How is he doing?”

Her smile returned.  “He’s doing good.  Better.  It’s been tough on him, you know, the not drinking and stuff.  But so far so good.”

Lorenzo gave a knowing nod.  “Sobriety’s tough on all of us.”

She looked around the kitchen, checking the doors and windows, making sure they weren’t being overheard.  “Yeah, but with you, it’s a choice. You’re not an alcoholic. You don’t have to _not_ drink.  With Jack, it’s different.”

“It’s not.  He’s making that choice too.  Every single minute of every single day.”

Ally gave a thoughtful nod.

“He’s got you, Sweetheart,” Lorenzo went on.  “He’s got you to look out for him; he’s going to be fine.  Besides, it’s early days still.  That choice will get easier and easier as time goes on, believe me.”

She was about to ask about her mother when she heard a noise coming from outside.  She looked over to the window and saw Ramon walking past.  She looked for Jack, but Ramon was alone.

“Hey, girlfriend,” Ramon said, a bright smile on his face as he sauntered in.  He covered the distance over to her and they embraced warmly.  “Thank you for having me over.”

She waved his words away.  “How’s work?”

Ramon pulled a face.  “Ah.  Not today, huh?  Today’s my day off.”

Ally laughed.  Ramon peered over Lorenzo’s shoulder before snatching a cube of tomato and plopping it into his mouth.

“Hey, hey,” Lorenzo chided in good humour, waving his knife in the air.  “No eating of the food.  Skedaddle.”

Ramon caught Ally’s eye and winked.

“There’s snacks on the table,” she told him, “And plenty of drinks in the fridge.  Help yourself.  You too, Dad.”

“I’m alright.”

Ramon opened the fridge door and took out one of the non-alcoholic beers.  Wincing, he studied the label carefully before putting the bottle back and choosing a can of Diet Coke instead.

“What?” he said when Ally narrowed her eyes at him, “I’m watching my figure, alright?”  He lifted the ring pull and opened the can.

“Jack out there?” she asked him.

He took a sip of the drink.  “I didn’t see him, but I didn’t go in the yard either.  You think he’d let me have a go on the bike if I asked real nice?”

Lorenzo scoffed. 

“Sure,” Ally replied, nudging his father’s side playfully.

Leaning against the kitchen island, Ramon gave a long sigh.  “Where’s that beast of yours?”

She frowned, only now thinking it strange that Charlie wasn’t in her feet, waiting for scraps.  “Out with Jack, I expect.”

“You want me to go check?”

Ally glanced at her father.  “No, it’s okay.”

Right on cue, she heard voices outside, Bobby and Jackson chatting as they approached, followed by Lukas and his two sons who were making a fuss of Charlie.  The sight made her smile.  Jack and Bobby were each carrying a six-pack of Bavaria non-alcoholic beer, which made Ally’s smile grow even wider.

“Bobby came bearing gifts,” Jack said, laughing. 

“You think anyone’s going to drink it?” she asked.

Bobby shrugged.  “Ain’t half bad once you get used to it.”  He put the beer down on the table, then met her gaze and winked.  Once again, she was grateful for his quiet support and reassurance.

“I hope you don’t mind, Ally,” Lukas said, refocusing her, while Ramon asked Jackson about the motorcycle.  “I’d forgotten it was my turn to have the boys this weekend.”

“Sure, no problems,” she said, smiling at the two boys now playing on the floor with Charlie.  “There’s drinks in the fridge.  Help yourselves.”  She glanced at Jackson.  “Everything okay outside?”

“Honky dory.”

When the rest of the guests arrived, everyone moved outside, taking their drinks and the trays laden with food with them.  Jack and Lorenzo argued about who should grill the meat and Ally left them to it.  Lukas’s boys went off to play with Charlie at the edge of the wood before taking turns riding the zip line, and sipping at her diet Coke Ally turned to them wistfully every time she heard happy laughing and barking.

The mood was relaxed, everyone chatting, mingling and generally having a good time.  Every so often, Jackson would catch her eye and grin at her happily, and she’d return the smile a little sadly.  In a couple of days, the contractor would take over the space and start digging the ground for the swimming pool.  It would take a good six weeks before it was finished and the yard fully landscaped again, but she hoped it was worth it.

Ramon came over and offered her a bruschetta from the tray he was carrying around.  Ally shook her head, and after picking one for himself he sat down next to her.  “I’d forgotten just how good these taste,” he enthused, his mouth full.

She smiled.

“You know, if you weren’t a singer you could have gone into food catering,” he went on musingly.

She scoffed.  “I’m not sad I left all that behind, that’s for sure.  You could do the same, you know.”

“And do what?” He bit into another bruschetta. “I can’t sing.  Not like you can anyways.  The catering business is all I know.”  Leaning his head on her shoulder affectionately, he lapsed into silence and finished his mouthful.  “You okay?” he then asked, his tone somewhat apprehensive.

Frowning, she pulled back from him.  “Sure.  Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know.  You were looking kind of…melancholy before.  You know, even while wearing your sunglasses.”

She smiled.  “Melancholy, huh?”

He watched her with concern.  “Yeah, melancholy.”

She made a musing sound.

Shifting beside her, he raised his hands to her hair and lifted a few strands.

“What’s the matter now?” she asked, pulling her head away.

“Your roots need doing.”

She burst out laughing.  “Actually, I’m thinking of growing the red out.”

“And what, go platinum blonde?”

She shrugged.  “How about back to brown?”

Ramon narrowed his eyes at her.  “What’s up, huh?” he asked pointedly.  “I’ve known you long enough to know something’s bothering you.”  He glanced at the group of men gathered around the barbecue, filling their plates.  “Is it Jackson?  I mean, he looks good – the best I’ve seen him in fact – but we both know looks can be deceiving.”

“No, Jack’s good.”

“It’s not your dad, is it?”  Ramon smiled brightly.  “He was playing your record all the way over in the car.  Drove me nuts.”

She laughed.  “It’s nothing.  Just…time of the month, you know?”

“No, I don’t know.”  He leaned his head on her shoulder again.  “You’d tell me, right?” he went on softly.  “If you weren’t happy?”

Ally was about to reply when Jackson ambled over with two full plates in his hands.  “I got you a little of everything,” he said, handing a plate to Ally, while he kept the other for himself.

“Oh, that’s how it is, is it?” Ramon said, standing up in a flurry.  “I’ll go get my own food then.”

Head shaking, Jackson took Ramon’s seat and began to eat. “So…huh, it’s all going well, no?” he asked, taking a big bite of his hamburger.

She scanned her gaze over the yard, taking in the happy faces and laughter.  “It’s wonderful.”

“And all that without a single drop of alcohol.  Who would have thought, huh?”  He grinned brightly, goofily, food stuck between his teeth, and she laughed.  His expression turned serious again and, swallowing back his mouthful, he gave a nod.  “Thank you for…suggesting we did this.  You were right.  It’s good to catch up with everyone.”

“Jack?” Lukas called, refocusing Jackson before she could reply.  “Come and listen to this.”

Jackson nodded, then turned back to Ally hesitantly.  “Go,” she said, laughing, and watched as shoving the rest of his hamburger in his mouth he bounded over to his bandmates.  The group huddled around Jack, and she stood up and plate in hand joined her father and Ramon near the food table.  They were listening to Bobby, who kept his audience rapt and laughing as he regaled tales of his tour with Willie she’d heard before. 

“So, anyways the other night,” Jackson said a while later, talking to his bandmates, and she pricked up her ears, “I was walking in the hills and this line came into my head.  So I started putting it down on paper and now I’ve got this lyric but you know it’s pretty fucking dark.”

“Yeah?” Lukas said, sounding interested.  “That’s great, man.  I mean, it’s great that you’re writing again.  That’s fucking great.”

She turned to see Jackson nodding his head.  He was looking nervous and uncertain.  “It’s…different from the old stuff though.  I don’t know if it’s any good.  But it’s a start, right?”

“Too right, it’s a start,” Lukas said, clapping Jackson’s shoulder encouragingly.

“Can we hear what you got?” Corey asked.

“Oh, I don’t know.  It’s still a mess.”

“Jack…come on,” Logan chipped in. “It’s us.  How long have we been playing together?  You never been worried about sharing your ideas before.  Even the shit ones.”

“Like I said, it’s not ready or anything.  It’s just a few lines…”

Ally’s heart broke for him.  He sounded just as insecure as she had when they’d first met and chatted in that parking lot. Worse than that even, he sounded scared.  Scared of vocalising his feelings of anguish and failure, of opening up to other people and opening himself up to criticism. He talked to her, and she knew he talked to his therapist too, about his fears about coming up short creatively.  What if his band, his friends, the people he trusted with his art, didn’t think his new music was as good as the stuff he put out before? What if his genius, his creativity, stemmed from the altered state brought about by his addictions? 

“Okay, here goes, huh…” he said, and her heartbeat quickening in trepidation she refocused, “‘ _Cork's off, it's on_  
_The party's just begun_  
_I promise this drink is my last one_  
_I know I fucked up again_  
_Because I lost my only friend.’”_

He wasn’t singing the words, he was just saying them, and rather flatly at that, but they were so raw, so Jackson’s, that tears came to Ally’s eyes.

“Shit, that’s good man,” Lukas said, nodding fervently.  “Anymore?”

Jackson moved to one of the coolers and grabbed a beer out of the ice.  He held it out to Lukas who passed it to Anthony, and so it went until they all stood with one of Jackson’s Bavaria beers in their hand.  Jackson twisted the cap off his, then took a long swig.  A little non-alcoholic Dutch courage, she thought with a sad smile. 

“Okay, so, there’s this line I thought of for the bridge,” he went on, a note of excitement in his voice now.  “Maybe, I don’t know.  I mean, it’s a little corny.  Anyways, it goes…

 _‘My heart would break without you_  
_Might not awake without you_  
_Been hurting low, from living high for so long.’”_

“Go on,” Lukas said, when Jackson faltered.

“ _’Each day, I cry_ _  
Oh, I feel so low from living high’._ That’s it,” he then said a little awkwardly.  “That’s all I got _.”_

“You’re on to something, man.  I like it.”

“Yeah?  You think so?”  Jackson shrugged.  “There’s another line I like but…”  Laughing a little self-consciously, he took another swig of beer, “I don’t know where to fit it in.”

“We’ll find somewhere,” Anthony said categorically.  “You got any music to go with it?”

Jackson paused.  He looked up past the group and cast a look around the yard.  Knowing the spell would be broken if he knew she’d been eavesdropping, Ally quickly plastered on a smile and tuned back into Bobby’s conversation.

“I got a riff, but I don’t know.  It’s not gelling with the lyrics.”

“Can we hear it?” Corey asked.

Again, Jackson looked around the yard a little uncertainly.  “I don’t know.  Like I said, it’s not much.  Just a few chords I put together.”  He laughed a little uneasily. “I don’t know if it’s any good.”

“What have you got to lose?” Lukas asked, and Ally wondered whether the question struck the same chord for Jackson as it did for her.

Jack paused again, then nodded his head and downed the rest of his beer.  Putting the empty bottle on the table, he came over and tapped Ally on the shoulder.  “The guys and I…well, there’s something I need to…I want to show them.  In the house.  You going to be okay here?”

“Sure.”  Playing it cool, she pointed at her father. “I’m—Bobby and my dad are full of wisdom.”

“Good.”  He kissed her on the mouth.  “I’ll be right back.”

She smiled.  “Okay.  Whatever. Take your time.  All’s good here.”

Jackson glanced at his bandmates waiting, then back at Ally and nodded.  He was full of energy all of a sudden, almost buzzing with it.  He nodded his head again, and then indicated the house and Jackson followed his bandmates there.  Ally tried to tune back in to Bobby’s conversation, but her attention kept drifting to the house as she wondered what they were doing.  Ramon caught her eye and frowned.

She was about to answer his silent question when the faint sound of piano coming from the open living room door floated over to her.  It wasn’t a melody she’d heard before, and she smiled, happy that he was playing again, that he was sharing his new ideas with Lukas and the guys.  The music stopped suddenly, and when she didn’t hear any more her heart sank.  It was just a few chords, as he’d said, but she guessed it was a start.  He’d taken a first step, even if that first step hadn’t been with her, like she’d hoped. 

“You okay?” Ramon asked in a whisper, drawing her back to the present.

“Sure.  Sorry.  I—I was…miles away.”

“I can’t say I noticed,” Ramon retorted drily, and she pulled a face at him.  “Jackson’s fine,” he went on, nodding toward the house, “So stop worrying about him.”  She realised then that he’d been watching her all this time.

Her smile returned.  She tried to relax; told herself that Jackson was in good hands with the guys.  At that moment, a high-pitch shriek of audio feedback sounded, startling her. Ramon winced, made to unblock his ears. And then a long silence, before the sound of electric guitar drifted on the air toward the yard.  His playing was hesitant at first, but soon Jackson got in the groove. 

Ally’s heart swelled with love, with pride.  He was playing the same riff he’d played on the piano minutes before but on the electric guitar. The tone was amazing, smooth and soaring, his playing soulful and passionate.  There was a magical, almost entrancing quality to it, maybe because he hadn’t played in so many long months.  She tried to remember the lyrics she’d heard him speak moments before, tried to make them fit the melody.  She just hoped he’d remembered to put his ear defenders on.

“I’ve never heard this before,” Ramon told Ally, sounding in awe of Jackson’s playing.

“Me neither,” she said, choking up.

“Did you know about this?” Bobby asked, turning toward her.

She shook her head.

“Is that Jackson playing?” Lorenzo asked.  “Or one of his friends.”

“Oh, that’s Jackson alright,” Bobby replied, with evident pride, stealing the words out of her mouth.

“Man, he’s good,” Ramon whispered, lifting his arm in the air.  “He’s giving me chills.”

Bobby nodded.  “There’s a hit record there if I ever heard one.  And I heard a few.  You mark my words.”  He gave his head a shake of disbelief.  “Son of a bitch, has he got lyrics to go with it?”

“I don’t know,” she half-laughed, half-cried, wiping at her eyes beneath her sunglasses.  “I think so.”

As abruptly as it had started, the music stopped.  Her silent tears of joy and pride still flowed.  When Bobby and Lorenzo began talking again, about Jackson this time, Ramon took her elbow and steered her a little to the side.  “What’s up, baby girl?” he asked, nudging her side playfully, tenderly.  “You can tell me.”

She lifted wide, watery eyes to him.

“It’s not Jackson, is it?”

She shook her head softly. 

His expression darkened anxiously.  “Ally?”

Wiping at her eyes again, she took in a deep, shuddering breath.

“Ally, what’s wrong?  You’re scaring me now.”

She swallowed, kept her voice very low as she spoke.  “I’m late.”

“Late?” he repeated, uncomprehending, too loudly for comfort.  “Late for what?”

She cast a surreptitious look around, shrugged in a isn’t-it-obvious-kind-of-way?  “You know.  _Late_.”

“Oh,” he said, his eyes widening when the penny finally dropped.  “How late?”

“A few days.”

He brightened up.  “Oh, but that’s nothing.”

“For me, it’s something.  I’m never late.”

He watched her with worry. “You done a test?”

She shook her head.

”Does Jackson know?”

Again, she shook her head.  “And you can’t tell him either.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, Lady Gaga’s lyrics, from her song ‘Dope’, are in italics in the chapter. I have changed a line and a word to make it fit the story better – I hope you don’t mind. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

 

“Why not?” Ramon asked in a whisper.  “I know he’s got issues, but he’s got a right to know.” He stopped dead in his tracks.  “Unless of course he isn’t the father.”

Deep hurt and anger flashed across Ally’s face.  She took Ramon’s arm and forcefully dragged him further away from her father and Bobby.  “Of course he is the father,” she said through gritted teeth.  “Fuck Ramon, how can you even think that?”

“I don’t, okay?” Ramon said, immediately contrite. “I’m sorry.  I know Jack means the world to you.  I just don’t understand—”  

“I’m worried he’s going to freak out, okay?  What if the news tips him over the edge again?”

Her words gave Ramon pause.  “What do you mean _again_?” he asked, frowning.

Ally swallowed, kept her voice hushed and urgent as she talked. “You know how fucking vulnerable he is right now,” she said, hoping Ramon would forget about her slip if she ignored his comment, “how fragile his mental health is, how every little thing is a battle in his head…”  Her words trailed off, and she took a deep breath. 

Ramon glanced toward the house.  “He’s looking good to me.”

“Today yes, but tomorrow?  The day after?”  She shrugged helplessly.

“How could you let this happen? You’re usually so careful.”

“Yeah, well, not careful enough.”  She cast a quick look around to make sure they weren’t being overheard.

Ramon let out a long breath.  “You got a test?  Go do one now.  Pee on the fucking stick, and find out for sure.  You’ve been under a lot of stress lately, and for all you know, you’re worrying over nothing.” 

“I know I’m pregnant, okay?” she snapped.  “I _know_ it. I can feel it. I don’t need a fucking test to confirm it.”

“How?” he insisted.  “How can you know? How can you be so sure when you’ve never been pregnant before?”

Knowing that once again she’d let slip too much, Ally stiffened.

“Ally?”

Keeping her face averted, she sighed.

“Oh, Ally.”  He looked around the yard, making sure they were still alone, then dipped his head to catch her eye. “When?”

She gave a shrug.  She didn’t speak for a long moment, but when she did she sounded resigned and defeated, defensive.  “It was a long time ago.  Before we met.  I was still just a kid.”

“Jack!” Bobby called loudly at that moment, startling Ally.

Ramon refocused to a point beyond her shoulder, and she turned toward the sound.  Laughing and talking, Jackson and his bandmates were walking down the path to the yard.  An instinctive smile formed on her lips at the sight, and she wiped her face a little self-consciously.  Lukas headed toward the woods where his kids were building a den, while the rest of the band made for the food table.  When Jackson made a beeline for Bobby and her father, she turned back to Ramon.

“Not a word, please,” she said, pleadingly.  “Not even in jest.  Ramon, I mean it.”

Ramon’s eyes shot up to a point beyond her suddenly, and he forced a smile.  She was about to turn around when she felt a strong pair of arms wrap around her shoulders.  Jackson snuggled his face into her neck while hugging her to him, and she tried to regain her composure.  She glanced at Ramon, who smiled back at her a little sadly.

“You two okay here?” Jackson asked, his gravelly voice vibrating against her skin, clearly unaware of the undercurrent.

“Sure,” Ally said, smiling as she turned her face toward him. 

“Ally was telling me you’re having a pool built?” Ramon said, and she refocused her smile onto him, grateful for his unyielding support.

Jackson pulled back from Ally, but kept a loose arm protectively draped around her shoulders.  “Yeah, we are,” he replied.  “You’ll have to come and try it, when it’s finished.  It was Ally’s idea.  She thinks it’ll help with my…rehab.”

“Then you won’t have to go roam the hills,” she said.  “You can just swim lengths instead.”

Jackson gave an easy shrug.  “There you have it.  So,” he went on, addressing Ramon, “you still want a go on the Harley?”

“For sure,” Ramon said, excited again, his gaze flicking to Ally.

Jackson kissed Ally on the lips.  “We won’t be long,” he said, pulling away, “We’ll just go down the track and back.”

Looking at Ramon, Ally nodded her head.  She knew he wouldn’t say anything, not until she knew for certain.  Instinctively her hand dropped to her stomach and she smoothed down her dress.  “Be careful,” she called when Jackson put a friendly arm around Ramon as the two men walked away.  She went to get herself a drink, then plastered a happy smile on her face and joined her father and Bobby.  Charlie barked.  She turned toward the sound and watched a little sadly the two boys laughing as they chased him. 

By six pm, everyone had left except her father and Ramon.  Lorenzo insisted that he would help tidy up and there was no changing his mind.  Ramon watched Ally closely, but didn’t otherwise say much or mention the pregnancy again.  When they left, she gave her father and Ramon extra-long, heartfelt hugs, both returned just as deeply.  She couldn’t help wishing that Ramon was right.  Maybe she’d jumped the gun and wasn’t pregnant after all.  Just late.

When later that evening Jackson finally came to bed, Ally was writing in her notebook.  Charlie jumped up, making himself comfortable at her feet, while Jackson got undressed and into bed.  He snuggled up close, and she opened out her arm so he could lay his head in the crook of her shoulder.

“That was beautiful, what you played, Jack, this afternoon,” she said in a whisper, leaning her face toward him.

He looked back toward her.  “You heard?”

Smiling, she gave a soft nod.  “Everyone did.”

Frowning, he shifted onto his side.  “You really think it was good?”

Again she nodded her head.  “It gave Ramon chills.  Hell, it gave _me_ chills.”

He scoffed.  “You always say my music gives you chills.”

“Not like that,” she said, her tone as earnest as her gaze.  “That was raw, Jack.  It was pure.  I don’t think I’ve ever heard you play guitar like that before.”

He gave a quiet chuckle.  “That’s what Lukas said.”  And then more introspectively, “Bobby too.”

Her expression softened.    “He’s so proud of you, you know?  Of the way you’re picking yourself up.”

His eyes averting, he gave a stiff nod.

“What else did the guys say?” she went on brightly, feeling the need to change tack.

He shrugged.  “They want us to play together again.  Start work on another record.”

Alarmed that it was too soon, Ally put her notebook down.  “Is that what you want too?”

Jackson scratched at his beard.  “I don’t know,” he said musingly.  He turned onto his back and fixed his eyes to the ceiling, then shifted back onto his side with his head on the pillow and his arm folded under his head.  “What do you think I should do?”

She scooted down, disturbing Charlie, until she lay in a mirror pose to his.  “I think you should do what feels right.  Keep writing if— when you want to, but don’t put any pressure on yourself.  The guys’ll wait.  You’ve got nothing to prove to anyone.”

Smiling softly, he reached his free hand across to stroke her face.  “I love you, you know that, right?”

She leaned forward to kiss his lips.  “I know.”

When she pulled back, he stared at her at length, a tender smile on his lips, and briefly she wondered whether Ramon had told him her period was late.  Worried he’d be able to tell just by looking into her eyes, she reached over and turned the bedside light off, casting the room in darkness.  She shifted onto her other side, with her back to him, and draping his hand across her stomach he closed the gap between them.  Briefly she froze, the symbolism of the gesture not lost on her, and then covered his hand with hers, tugging him to her closer still until his body moulded itself to hers perfectly.

Just when his breaths, blowing warm and even on her skin, were lulling her to sleep, Jackson spoke again.  Low raspy murmurs that she soon recognised as the lyrics he’d shared with his band at the barbecue.  When she thought he would stop, he continued and sang more lyrics to her, still in whispers in her neck.  The words were so personal, so heartfelt, so clearly about them, that her breath caught in her chest.  Tears came to her eyes, but she didn’t shed them.  She daren’t move, daren’t breathe, lest she broke the spell.  

“‘ _My heart would break without you_  
_Might not awake without you_  
_Been hurting low from living high for so long._

  
_“‘I'm sorry, and I love you_  
_Sing with me, I beg of you,_  
_I'll keep on searching for an answer cause I need you more than dope.’”_

Slowly, hesitantly, she turned around in his arms and did as he’d bid in the song, echoing in a whisper, _“‘I need you more than dope_ ’.”

 _“‘Need you more than dope’,”_ he went on softly, a chuckle bubbling out of him.

 _“‘Need you more than dope’_ ,” she finished, her tears finally spilling.

He shifted on the mattress, moving away from her.  The movement made her roll onto her back, and slowly, gently, he moved on top of her and murmured still in the same key, “‘ _I love you more than dope’_.”

Cupping his hands to her face, he laughed and kissed her lips.  “You’re crying,” he exclaimed with surprise, with concern, as he pulled back.

“I’m happy,” she replied, choked up, and paused.  “Jack, I—there’s someth—”

He pressed his index finger to her lips, silencing her.  Then he stroked his hand to her face again, touching his fingers to her eyes, wiping at the moisture seeping out of their corners.  She stared up at him, at his blue eyes seemingly shining brighter in the darkness, until once again he lowered his mouth to hers for a slow and leisurely kiss.  Her body’s reaction was immediate, overwhelming.  His hand moved beneath her T-shirt, stroking from her upper leg over her waist to her chest, her breasts and nipples, while hers gripped his hair, pulling him closer. 

Her hands came up to his shoulders, the back of his head, holding him to her as she sank deeper into his touch and let out a series of small, breathless gasps.  When he came up for air she stared up at him again, eyes brimming with love and tears he could not see.  Her legs parted of their own accord and when he moved between them she felt his erection, twitching against her sex, already seeking its way in.  Their lovemaking that night was slow and unhurried, familiar and soothing. 

They gave and took and shared pleasure in equal measure until forgetting about her worries, all of them, she lost herself in the beauty, in the intensity of the moment.  There was so much love and passion between them that sometimes she thought it might consume her, and yet she couldn’t get enough of his touch and always sought more.  When afterwards he kissed her mouth again and rolled off her and, she thought, went to sleep, she curled herself up into his side a little closer and let the tears she’d kept at bay silently fall. 

She woke up first the next day.  Jack lay prone, sprawled on his side of the bed, fast asleep.  She kissed the back of his shoulder tenderly and got out of bed.  Charlie looked up, jumped down and shook himself.  In the bathroom, she took care of business, grabbed her robe she wrapped herself in and went to let Charlie out.  It was still early, the sun only just peeking through the woods.  She made herself some coffee she took outside to drink.

For a long moment, she stood on the patio, looking straight ahead in the distance unseeingly, thinking as mindlessly she sipped at her coffee.  The peace and quiet was permeating, comforting.  She slipped her hand between the folds of her robe and let it rest on her belly, taut and flat from all the hours of dance training.  The thought of a baby growing inside her terrified her.  She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, once again trying to convince herself that she was worrying over nothing, knowing deep down that she wasn’t.

She took another sip of her coffee, but it had gone cold and idly she wondered how long she’d been standing there.  Unbeknown to her Jackson sneaked up from behind, his arms snaking around her waist as he lay his head on her shoulder.  Smiling, she leaned her face against his.  He let out a contented breath and they remained like this for a long moment.  She thought about sharing her fears about a pregnancy with him, but he was so at peace with her and himself that she didn’t.

“Come back to bed,” he whispered into her neck on repressing a shiver.  “It’s still early.”

She turned to look at him, only then realising that he was nude.  “Don’t you have an appointment with Dr Cummings?”

“Not until later.”  He pressed his lips to the tender spot between her neck and shoulder.  “Come on.  Let’s go back to bed.  It’s cold out here.”

And so they did, dozing in each other’s arms until the thoughts in her head became too much.  Pulling away from him, she reached for her notebook and began to write.

“You mind if I catch a ride into town with you?” she asked when he got up.

“Sure.”

“I just got to run some errands, that’s all,” she said, when he watched her quizzically.

Jack jumped in the shower, and then they got dressed and ready to leave.  Jack fed Charlie while she locked up, and they got in the truck.  Ally put her seatbelt on and sat staring straight ahead, clutching her purse to herself.  He climbed behind the wheel, started the engine and when he looked over at her she gave him a soft smile.

“You okay?” he asked, when he stopped at the end of the track to give way to passing traffic.

“Sure.”  She tried a smile, but it didn’t seem to fool him.

“You’re very quiet, that’s all,” he went on after a beat, looking left and right as he pulled away.

Touching her hand to his leg, she mustered a wider smile.  “It’s nothing.  I’m just a little tired.”

“I kind of figured you might be worried about Rez, you know, and going back out there.”

Her face softened lovingly.  “There’s that too.”

Flicking his eyes off the road, he gave a knowing nod.  “’Cause, you know, it’s going to be fine, right?  You’ll pick everything right back up from where you left off.”

He was being so sweet and considerate that tears built, prickling at the back of her eyes.  Glad she was wearing sunglasses, she gave a nod, then turned away and looked at the passing scenery through the window.  She hated how she was right then, so damn emotional and constantly on the verge of tears, but she didn’t seem to be able to rid herself of that funk.  When they got into town, Jack parked the truck up kerbside on Main Street.  She slipped her ball cap on, shouldered her purse and got out of the truck.

“You got your cell?” she asked, when he joined her side.

He patted his breast pocket and nodded his head.  “I’ll be about an hour.  Does that give you enough time?”

“Plenty,” she said, smiling.

“Shall we meet for coffee afterwards?  Dino’s?”

“Okay.”

He gave a nod, moved to kiss her.  “I’d better go,” he said afterwards, clearly hesitating. 

She could see worry in his eyes as he watched her, but he didn’t voice it, and she was grateful she wouldn’t have to tell another half-lie.  She touched her hand to his bearded cheek and smiled.  “Go or you’ll be late,” she said, rising on her tiptoes to kiss the corner of his mouth.  After another uncertain nod, he turned on his heels and she stared helplessly at his rapidly retreating form.  With a heavy heart, she went the opposite way, stopped to look in a couple of store windows, then browsed in the music store to waste time before finally heading to the drugstore. 

There she took a shopping basket and wandered through the aisles, picking up various items and putting them back, finally settling for a few toiletries she didn’t really need before she moved to the pregnancy and baby care aisle.  The aisle was empty, and she picked up the first pregnancy test she came across, read the instructions on the back of the box and put it back.  She did the same with a different brand, and then a third one but all claimed to be 99% accurate.  Unsure which one to pick, she grabbed all three and headed to the counter to pay.

She arrived at the diner first, chose a table at the back away from the window, and tucked her purse into her side.  Jackson was a regular at Dino’s, had been for years, and she knew they wouldn’t be bothered.  The server came immediately, coffee pot in hand, and Ally sat back while she poured coffee into her cup.  She thanked her, and for something to do while she waited for Jackson reached for a menu. 

Then she checked the time on her phone.  There was a missed call from Ramon, no voicemail.  With a sigh, she removed her ball cap and put it and her phone inside her purse.  Her hand brushed against the paper bag containing her purchases.  She paused, hesitating.  She was considering going to the ladies’ room to take the test when the diner door pinged open and Jack stepped in.  Quickly, she zipped up her purse. He was looking upbeat and happy as he greeted a few of the patrons with nods before casting his eyes around the room and smiling broadly as, finally, he located her.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, sliding onto the bench across from her. 

The server came over and after he gave her the nod she filled up his cup with coffee.  “Anything else I can get you, Mr Maine?”

Jack looked at Ally questioningly.

She laughed.  “I’ll share whatever he’s having.”

Jackson looked at the server and rubbed his hands gleefully.  “Alright.  In that case, I’ll have the large pancake breakfast, with extra bacon and maple syrup please.”

The server nodded, then left to place her order before coming back and placing cutlery in front of them.

“How did it go with Dr Cummings?” she asked, when the server was out of earshot.

“It was fine.”  He drummed his fingers on the table a little nervously.  “We talked about how yesterday went, you know, and that was good so…he says I’m making progress.”

Smiling widely, she reached out her hand to him, and he took it.  “That’s great, Jack.” 

“We’re working on strategies,” he went on, his head bobbing enthusiastically, “so I learn to recognise the signs and understands the triggers, you know, for the negative thoughts.”

Giving an eager nod, she picked up her coffee and took a sip, and he did the same.

“So, I’ll just keep taking it as it come,” he went on, setting the cup back down.  “That’s all I can do, right?”  Pausing, he cast his eyes around the diner restlessly before bringing them back to her face.  “I was going to wait until we got home but…” He reached inside his jacket pocket and produced a small jewellery box.  He looked at it a little uncertainly before placing it on the table in front of her. 

He flicked his eyes up to her face.  “It’s for you.”

She frowned.  “What is it?”

He shrugged.  “I saw them in the window and…well…open it!”

Shaky hands raised from her lap to the box.  She picked it up and lifted the lid.  “Oh, Jack,” she said, looking up with surprise.  “They’re beautiful.”

“Yeah?  I mean, we can always go change them if you want.  Or get our money back.”

“No, no.  They’re perfect.  I love them, Jack.”  Tears filled her eyes unexpectedly, and looking down at the box in her hands she willed them away.  She took one of the earrings out and while she composed herself studied it.  They were large cluster, pave cubic zirconia stones set in white gold earrings in the shape of angel wings. Or was it two half hearts? Whatever they were, they were unlike anything she’d seen or worn before.

“They’re from that vintage store down the road you like,” he went on, when she remained silent.

She looked back up.  “They’re beautiful.  Thank you.”  Immediately, she took out the earrings she was wearing and put on the new ones.  “But why?” she asked, smiling tearfully as she touched her fingers to the earrings, checking she’d fixed them on properly.  “It’s not my birthday.”

He shrugged.  “That’s exactly why,” he said, nodding fervently.  “Because it’s _not_ your birthday.”

Her puzzlement intensified.  “I don’t understand.”

His shoulder lifted again.  “I just want to say thank you.  For everything you do for me.  For sticking by me despite everything I put you through every day.  For being my rock.”

“Jack—” she protested.

He paused, watched her tenderly, earnestly.  “I love you.  That’s reason enough.”

A slow smile spread, lighting up her eyes.

“Now that’s better,” he said, smiling too.  “Cause you know…I’ve been a little worried.”

“Worried?”

He gave a soft nod.  “About you.”

Her gaze averted.  “I’m fine.”

“Are you really?” he insisted. 

She brought her eyes back to his face and paused, hesitating.  The words stood poised at the tip of her tongue and yet she couldn’t get them out.  The server walked up to their table with a bright smile on her face, providing the perfect distraction.  She set Jackson’s breakfast down in front of him and an empty plate in front of Ally.  Returning with her coffee pot, she topped up their cups. “Anything else I can get for you?” she then asked, her eyes flicking between the two excitedly.

“Ally?” Jackson asked, and when she shook her head, he smiled brightly at the server while replying an overly sweet, “No, thank you.  This is great.”

As soon as they got home, Ally headed to the bathroom and locked herself in.  When she took the tests out of their respective boxes, her hands were shaking.  She put the tests on the counter and read the instructions fully again. Then she pulled down her pants, sat down on the toilet, peed on each of the sticks and washed her hands.  The tips of the sticks changed colour as expected.  The instructions said to wait a couple of minutes for the results but no more than five.  She lowered the toilet seat lid, sat down on it and waited.  Her heart was racing.

“Please,” she said, and closed her eyes.  “Please.  Please.”

A knock on the door startled her. “Ally?”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to go and take Charlie for a walk.  You want to come?”

“No, thank you.”

There was a pause.  “You okay in there?”

She swallowed the constriction in her throat.  “Sure.”

“I won’t be long.”

“It’s okay.  Take your time.”

Another pause.  “You sure you’re alright?”

“I’m sure,” she said, choking up.

Moving away from the door, Jack called for Charlie, and she checked the first stick, and then the second and the third.

They all showed the same result.

“Shit.”


	10. Chapter 10

Ally waited until Jack had gone for a walk with Charlie to sit down at the kitchen table with her purse and get her cell out.  Normally she’d call her own healthcare provider, but for the sake of anonymity she searched online for the name of a pregnancy centre and made the call.  The clerk picked up with a cheery _North Los Angeles Pregnancy Center, You’re through to Carly, How may I help you?_ and checking all around her to make sure she was alone Ally swallowed the constriction in her throat.

“Hello, hi,” she said, speaking quietly into the phone, “I need to see a doctor please.”

“Okay, let me—”

“Do you have anything today?” she pre-empted.

“Well,” the clerk went on hesitantly, “we got a cancellation—”

“I’ll take it.”

There was a pause.  “Can you be here for eleven?”

She checked the time.  It was just after nine thirty.  “I’ll be there.”

“And your name?”

She paused, hesitating, then closed her eyes as she said, “Allison Campana.”

As soon as she hung up, she let out a deep breath, then sent Ramon a text.  _Doc appt today 11am.  U free to come with?_

His reply was almost instantaneous.  _Sure_

_I’ll pick you up from yours_

She smiled on getting a smiley and hug emoji back and put her phone away.  She hoped Jack and Charlie were back before she needed to leave, but if not she’d leave him a note, explaining she’d gone to see her father.  Quickly, she finished tidying breakfast away, then she made the bed, got dressed in non-descript clothes and tied her hair back in a ponytail.  When she went to open the garage, she found Jackson there, rag in hand as crouched down he tinkered with his motorcycle.  Charlie lay on the driveway, bathing in a ray of sunlight.

“Oh,” she said, her hand rising to her chest in surprise, “I didn’t think you were back.”

He looked up and over his shoulder toward her, but didn’t meet her gaze fully.

“I told Dad I’d go around this morning,” she went on, dropping a hand to his shoulder.  “Is it okay if I take the truck?  Do you need it?”

Jackson slowly swivelled on his heels, looking over toward the truck parked alongside the bike.  “You can take it.  It’s fine.”

“You’re not scheduled to see Dr Cummings, are you?”

“Not today.”

She nodded, paused.  “You okay?”

“Sure,” he said, his tone of voice belying his answer, adding as finally he met her gaze dead on, “Why?  Shouldn’t I be?”

Worried he would read her like an open book, she flashed him a quick, awkward smile.  “I won’t be long.”

He turned back toward the bike.  “It’s okay. Take your time.  I’m not going anywhere.”

His cold demeanour gave her pause.  “We could...take a walk down to the creek when I get back if you want,” she said, touching her hand to his shoulder uncertainly.

He seemed to relax.  “Yeah.  Sure.”

Smiling, she bent down to kiss his cheek, then opened the pickup door and slung her purse onto the passenger seat.  Looking back over her shoulder, she climbed into the cab, pulled the door shut and moved the seat forward.  The key was already in the ignition and she turned it, the truck firing up first time.  She adjusted the rear view mirror, and as she pulled the seat belt across her chest to buckle up looked over at Jack who was watching her.  His smile was sad, and she returned it a little warily.

“I love you,” she mouthed, her smile broadening, and watched as the wary lines on his face softened with affection.

She put the truck in reverse and making sure Charlie had moved out of the way backed out of the open garage.  When she turned to wave at Jack, he was gone.  With a heavy heart and a deep frown on her face, she changed gear and set off.  She’d get this appointment out of the way and then make it up to him when she got back.  Ramon must have been looking out for her because he came out of the door of his apartment building before she’d even put the truck in park. 

“So where to?” he asked, getting in.

“Some place in North Los Angeles.”

He gave a forlorn nod.  She could tell he disapproved of the fact that _he_ was going with her and not Jackson, but she was grateful for his support.  If he knew the extent of how vulnerable Jack’s mental health was right then, he’d probably think like her too.  Twenty minutes and a few wrong turns later, she pulled into the busy car lot of the Pregnancy Center and parked a little ways away from the entrance.  Cutting the engine, she took a deep breath in.  Only then did she think to take her wedding ring off, doing so hesitantly and with a pang of sadness.

“Ready?” Ramon asked.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Ramon paused.  “You know you don’t have to do this, right?  Not like this.  Not with _me_.  It feels…wrong, somehow.  Like we’re betraying him.”

“I know.”  She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze, managed a smile.  “Thank you for coming with me.”

He gave an easy shrug.  “Where else would I be?”

Ally checked in, opting to pay cash upfront, and they took a seat in the waiting room.  Most of the people – mainly much younger women than her, some with their mothers but all without partners it would seem – didn’t look up as she and Ramon walked in, and those who did, did so without a flicker of recognition.  As they waited, a knot of anxiety she recognised as fear and guilt formed in the pit of her stomach.  

Guilt at being careless enough to fall pregnant in the first place, but also at the fact that she was here now without Jack’s knowledge.  She’d lied to him this morning when she’d told him she was visiting her father, and the last time she’d done that it had been with catastrophic consequences.  Shifting on the hard plastic seat, she wrung her hands together nervously and smiled a little awkwardly when she caught Ramon watching her.

“I don’t know why you’re so nervous,” he said.  “It’s not like you don’t already know what he’ll say.  Unless of course, you think three pregnancy tests could be wrong?”

“It’s a she,” Ally replied, and Ramon rolled his eyes.

Ten minutes later, and she and Ramon were sitting opposite Dr Stanislas.  Without preamble, Ally unzipped her purse and took out the three home pregnancy tests she’d done, dumping the packages containing the sticks onto the desk.

“They’re all positive,” she said.

Dr Stanislas looked at the packages over the top of her glasses and laughed.  “Then congratulations,” she said, her eyes flicking back up to Ally and then to Ramon without a hint of malice, and Ally felt a wave of relief at the fact that her identity was still secret.  

“I’m not the father,” Ramon said, with an uneasy laugh.  “I’m just here for moral support.”

“So what do I do?” Ally asked, dispensing with the pleasantries.

Dr Stanislas turned back to her.  “Well, normally we’d do a urine test, but as you’ve already done three…”  Smiling broadly, she let her words trail.  “How late are you?”

“Five days?”

Dr Stanislas raised a brow.  “So almost five weeks’ pregnant.”  She stood up and moved behind a screened area.  “Normally I’d check for changes in your cervix and uterus, but it’s still a little early for an internal examination to be conclusive.”

Ramon pulled a face in disgust and Ally smiled. 

“So, what we’ll do instead,” Dr Stanislas went on, “is have a blood test done.  Is this your first pregnancy?”

Ally gave Ramon a long sideways glance.  “Yes,” she lied.

Ramon frowned, but didn’t otherwise comment.  The doctor returned, then took Ally’s medical history, asking questions about lifestyle choices regarding her eating, drinking and smoking habits as well as physical exercise. Afterwards, they moved behind the screen and she checked Ally’s weight, took her blood pressure before setting about taking blood from her. 

“The results should be ready by tomorrow morning,” she went on, putting an adhesive bandage over the small puncture wound.  “Call the office then.  But with three positive home tests, I think it’s safe to say you are pregnant.”

Ally nodded.

“Are you taking a folate supplement?” she then asked, as Ally resumed her seat next to Ramon.

“No.”

“Then you should start straightaway.”

Ally glanced at Ramon who was nodding his head enthusiastically at the doctor’s words.   

“You should take folate supplements at least for the first twelve weeks,” Dr Stanislas went on, and she refocused.  “It helps prevent birth defects of your baby’s brain and spinal cord.”

Ramon’s phone rang, startling Ally.  Looking sheepish, he pulled it out of his pocket, then cast a quick, puzzled look toward Ally as he checked the caller’s name on the display before swiftly sending the call to voicemail.  Without meeting Ally’s enquiring eyes, he muted the phone and slipped it back in his pocket.

“Sorry,” he said, flashing an uneasy smile at the doctor.

“We can start a babycare plan when we get the definitive results,” Dr Stanislas went on, refocusing Ally, “but until then do you have any questions?”

Ally opened her mouth, then stole a glance at Ramon.  “What if…what are the options if…”  Again, she looked at Ramon, finishing in a small, pained voice, “If I decided _not_ to keep the baby?”

“Wow,” Ramon said, his eyes snapping to Ally, wide with shock.  “What?  Ally, what the hell?”

Ally turned to look at Ramon, her eyes sad and seeking forgiveness, the tears she’d kept at bay all this time finally spilling when she glimpsed disappointment and dismay on her best friend’s face.

“Let’s wait for the results to come back,” Dr Stanislas said in a calm but authoritative voice, and blinking at her tears Ally slowly turned her attention back to her.  “Give yourself some time to get used to the idea.  We can look at all the possibilities during your next appointment.”

Nodding, Ally pushed to her feet, and Ramon belatedly followed suit.  “Is that it?” he asked, his eyes flicking between Ally and the doctor uncertainly.

“For the time being, yes,” Dr Stanislas replied calmly.

“You’re not going to talk her out—”

Ally nudged Ramon’s side, stopping him short.  “Not now, Ramon,” she said.  “Please.”

Clamping his mouth shut, Ramon looked at the doctor one last time before turning on his heels and storming out of the room, leaving the door open behind him. 

“Should I…dispose of these?” the doctor asked, motioning toward the desk.

Lowering her gaze to the pregnancy tests, Ally nodded her head.  Then she thanked the doctor and knowing she was in for a rough ride home exited the building rather forlornly.  The sun was bright, dazzling, and immediately she slipped her sunglasses and ball cap back on before joining Ramon at the truck where he was restlessly pacing back and forth.  She unlocked the truck and they got in.

“You’re not a fucking kid anymore,” he said, his voice shaking with anger despite how quiet it was, and she knew he was referring back to their conversation at the barbecue when she told him she’d been pregnant before.  “You’re a thirty-two – almost thirty-three – year-old woman.  Your situation’s changed now.  You got a career.  You got money.  You’re married to a guy that _adores_ you.” 

Tears sprung to her eyes. “I’m scared, Ramon,” she defended heatedly. “I’m terrified, okay?”

“Then all the more fucking reasons to tell Jack.  He’s going to find out anyway.”

“Not if I choose not to have the baby.”

“But why the fuck would you want to do that?” he asked again, his disbelief and incomprehension evident.  “And please don’t say Jack again.  Don’t pin this down on him when I know it’s about you!”

Ramon’s voice had been steadily rising, shocking Ally in his intensity.  He was usually so laidback, so supportive of her choices.  In all the years they’d known each other, she’d never seen him so…incensed, and certainly not at her.  “You’re right,” she said, trying to keep calm and reasonable.  “It’s not just Jack.  It’s me too. The album’s just out.  I’m not even done promoting it yet.  It’s not a good time for anybody.”  Even to her ears, her argument sounded feeble, unconvincing, but facing up to the truth at this point was beyond her.

Ramon pointed a shaky finger at her.  “That’s bullshit and you know it,” he spat angrily.  “Your album, your career, it’s important for sure, but not more important than your marriage and your love for Jackson.  How many times have you told me that, huh?  How many fucking times?”

Unwilling to answer, Ally turned her face away.

“Ally, you _love_ kids,” he tried again, his voice softer now. 

Still, she remained silent.

Ramon’s head was shaking. “I don’t get it, Ally.  I know you want kids.  Hell, I know you want _Jack’s_ kids.”  He gave a sad laugh.  “You were telling me about Jack’s musician friend’s kids and how sweet they were.”

Ally opened her mouth, but she was out of arguments and all that came out was a long sigh and a weak apology.

“Don’t apologise to me,” he snapped, then he took a breath, checking himself.  “Ally, I’m not saying it’s going to be easy,” he tried again, his tone earnest now.  “But you _must_ tell him.  Let him get used to the possibility _with_ you.  Let him share—”

She gave her head a shake.  “I can’t take the risk.”

She tried to put the key in the ignition but her hands were shaking so much that she couldn’t.  Ramon’s phone vibrated, and she watched as he got it out of his pocket, checking the screen before sending the call to voicemail.  “That’s the third time Jack’s called,” he said, turning toward her as finally she started the engine.  “He knows something’s up, I know it.  Why else would he call me?”

With a sigh, she started up the truck and drove away.  Ramon stared at his phone, clearly debating with himself whether he should call Jack back or not before he eventually put it away.

“Is it okay if I drop you at my Dad’s,” she said, as they left North Los Angeles, “I’m not feeling too good.”

“Whatever,” he said impatiently, his gaze steadfast on the road ahead.

The rest of the ride to her father’s house was silent, the atmosphere thick with reproach.

“You got to tell him,” he tried again, but more calmly now, when they neared her old neighbourhood.  “Whatever you decide, you’ve got to decide together.  It’s not fucking fair otherwise.”  His eyes lowered hesitantly before he brought them back up to her face.  “I’m your friend, Ally.  Your best friend.  I would do anything for you, you know that, and I’ll stand by you whatever happens.  But if you don’t tell him—”

“Then what?” she challenged when he faltered.

He swallowed.  “Then I will.”

She gave a nod to say that she understood, then made the turn into her street.  Immediately her eyes were drawn to her childhood home and Jackson’s motorcycle parked up behind her father’s car.  Oh, God, she thought, her heart sinking at the thought that he’d found out she’d lied to him.  What would she tell him?  What _could_ she tell him to explain?  Another lie?

“Isn’t that Jack’s Harley?” Ramon asked, frowning with confusion, as she pulled the truck up behind it.

Ally gave a stiff nod.  No sooner had she cut the engine than the front door to her father’s house burst open and Jackson stormed out.  His expression was dark and confrontational, as he strode purposefully over to the truck, her father rushing forlornly behind, vainly calling after him.  Her heart was beating wildly in her chest.

“I think that’s my cue,” Ramon said, looking at her as he opened the truck door.

Before she could reply, Jackson wrenched the door out of Ramon’s hand.  “I open my house to you,” he gritted, grabbing Ramon by the collar with both hands and yanking him out of the cab, “and this is how you repay me?”

A look of terror filled Ramon’s face.  Holding his hands out to his side, he threw a helpless look at Ally, who was rushing around the hood.

“Jack, please,” she said, grabbing him by the shoulders and gently pulling him off Ramon.  “Jack,” she tried again, more forcefully, when he held on fast.  “Please, let him go.  It’s not his fault.”

“Whose fault is it then?” Jackson snarled, keeping a hold on Ramon as he whirled around toward her.

“You’ve got to tell him, Ally,” Ramon said.

Jack froze.  “Tell me what?”  Wide eyes flicked between Ally and Ramon furiously, then back to Ally.  “Tell me what?” he shouted again.  “I’m your fucking husband, Ally.  Didn’t the vows we took mean anything to you?”

“They did, Jack,” she said, tears welling.  “They mean everything.  You mean everything.”

“We promised no secrets,” he went on in a growl of despair.  “We promised for better for worse.”

“Jack, please,” she tried, pulling on his arms so he would release Ramon.   “Let Ramon go.”

A dog barked nearby, and Lorenzo came forward.  “Jackson, let’s not do this here.  I’m sure Ally’s got a good explanation.”  She felt her father’s dark eyes on her, but ashamed by the affray she was causing she didn’t look at him. “Please, let’s get inside the house.”

“Jack please,” she reiterated softly.  “People are watching.”

“Let them fucking watch,” he snapped, still seething with anger and hostility.  “You worried about your reputation, is that it?”

“No, Jack,” she bit back.  “I’m worried about yours.”

Her words took the wind out of his sails.  He seemed to check himself, finally releasing the hold he had on Ramon.  As he stared at her, she saw his gaze turn from fiery and fuming to beseeching and broken.  “Ally, please,” he said, crying now, “You got to tell me.  Not knowing is killing me.”  He paused to catch his breath.  “It’s fucking killing me inside.” 

“Ramon, please, go,” she asked pleadingly, her tears falling.  “Dad, you too please.”  She took a step closer to Jack, then another, and when she saw that he wasn’t backing away wrapped her arms around him, holding on to him protectively as she would a child.  “Please, go inside.” 

“Are you sick?” Jack asked, pulling himself out of her grasp as soon as the door had shut on her father and Ramon.  “Is that it?”

Shock registered on her face.  “Sick?” she repeated, staring at him with bafflement.  “No, Jack.  I’m not sick.”

Holding his head in his hands, he began to rock on the spot.  “Because I’m thinking the worst, you know—”

“Oh, my God, Jack,” she said, talking over him.

“—because that’s where my fucking thoughts take me every single time—”

“Jack!”  She grabbed his arm, but he yanked it free. 

“And I’m thinking cancer, you know,” he went on, talking as if in a trance, “or something equally as devastating.”  He dropped his hands, lifting a tear-filled face to her.  “Why else wouldn’t you tell me you were going to the doctor's?”

Only now fully realising what she’d put him through, Ally opened her mouth, only to shut it despondently.  “I’m not sick,” she repeated quietly, managing a trembling smile as she reached for him. “I’m not sick.”

“You’re not sick?” he repeated with disbelief.

“No,” she said, her head shaking softly.

He stared at her at length, then nodding to himself went to sit down at the kerb near his motorcycle. “But this morning—” He gave his head a shake, as if trying to clear the fog in his mind, then rubbed a heavy hand to his face, and placing a comforting hand on his back she sat down beside him.  “You’ve been so distracted lately, almost distant at times, secretive.  Sad,” he went on glumly, looking pained and uncomprehending.  “And when I found out about your appointment today I—”

Her nod was slow and understanding.  “You thought the worst.”  Smiling sadly, she stroked her hand to his face tenderly.  “I’m not sick, okay?”

“Okay,” he repeated, finally mustering a smile. 

“How did you find out?” she ventured after a moment of sitting in companionable silence side by side.  “Ramon?”

He shook his head.  “I heard you talking on the phone this morning.” 

She dropped her hand from his back.  “But I thought—”

“You thought what?  That I was out of the way?”

She averted her eyes shamefully.  “I’m sorry.”

He scoffed.  “Sorry for what?  Sorry that I found out?”  His haunted look returned, and he gave a pitiful cry.  “You couldn’t even use your fucking name, Ally.  _My_ fucking name.”

Her shoulders sagged.  “I didn’t want people to make the connection,” she defended quietly.  “And for it to be all over social media.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, giving a sad snigger.  “I get it.  You were only trying to protect me.  Poor Jackson Maine, the fuckup.”  Frowning, he stopped dead in his tracks.  “For what to be all over social media?” he asked, turning questioning eyes toward her.

“The reason why I went to see a doctor.”  Knowing she had no choice but to tell him now, she took in a deep steadying breath.  She looked over her shoulder, saw her father watching from the window and swallowed.  Turning back to Jackson watching her expectantly, she opened her mouth, but no sound came out. 

“Even now, you can’t trust me with…this.  Whatever _this_ is.”  With a sad laugh and shake of the head, he put his hands on the ground by his sides and pushed himself up to his feet.  She watched powerlessly as he turned his back on her and walked away without a backward glance.

“Jack!” she called, scrambling to her feet and going after him.  “Jack!”  She caught him by the arm, and he stopped in his tracks.  “Where are you going?”

“Where’s your ring?” he asked suddenly, his eyes flicking from the hand on his arm to her face.

Startling, Ally’s gaze dropped to her bare ring finger.  “It’s in my purse in the truck,” she said, looking back up to his face.  Seeing the look of disbelief and abject misery in his face broke her heart.  “It’s not what you think,” she defended weakly.

“Then tell me what to fucking think!” he shouted, pushing past her. 

He’d explained to her that his head was like a pressure cooker, with thoughts building up inside it like steam until he felt like it would explode.  She realised then that this time she was the only one who could release the pressure for him, that he wouldn’t – couldn’t – win the battle unless she told him the truth.

“I’m pregnant,” she called breathlessly.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

She caught up with him, repeating quietly, “I’m pregnant.  That’s why I went to see the doctor this morning.”

“Pregnant?” he echoed, whipping his body around.  His eyes had lit up, shining with wonder now, rather than misery. 

Registering a look of surprise at his reaction, she gave a soft nod.

The corners of his eyes crinkled up as his smile grew wider.  He opened his mouth, only to shut it again.  “A baby?”

Smiling now, she gave another nod.

“My baby?”  His eyes filled suddenly.  “I’m going to be a Daddy?”

She swallowed the constriction in her throat.  “Yes,” she croaked out.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he exclaimed joyfully.  Laughing, he took her in his arms and swept her off her feet, twirling her in the air until his body stiffened and he put her back down abruptly.  The look of awe and amazement lingered on his face briefly before the light in his eyes went out completely.  Ally looked away, but it was too late.  “You weren’t going to tell me, were you?”  His words came out as a bitter, disbelieving whisper.

“Jack—”

“Didn’t you think I’d find out eventually?”  The heartbreak in his voice pierced right through her heart.  She swallowed, and watched as all the pieces of the puzzle fell in place for him and realisation dawned in his eyes.  His expression shifted suddenly, twisting in sorrow as he stared at her with utter disbelief. “Oh, no, Ally, no,” he murmured, squeezing his eyes shut as if the pain was too much.  “You don’t want to keep it, do you?”

She opened her mouth, ready to deny the accusation but found that she couldn’t.  “Jack, please,” she said instead, holding out a trembling hand to him.  “This is hard for me too.”

He scrunched his eyes tighter shut.  “I can’t—I can’t…”  He folded his arms over his head, as if trying to protect himself, as if trying to keep the thoughts in his head from taking over. 

“Jack, please, listen to me,” she tried again, reaching for his hand, but he pushed her away.

“Why would you want a drunk, fucked-up loser like me as the father of your child, huh?” he then said, the corner of his lip curling up in a snarl.  The happy tears that had filled his eyes moments ago fell down miserably.  Turning away, he walked off back the way they’d come toward her father’s house.

“Jack!” she called after him. “Don’t walk away please.  Let me explain. We need to talk about this.”

“Talk?” he repeated with disbelief, whipping around toward her.  “Talk?  A bit fucking late for that!”

“Jack—”

He raised an unsteady hand in her direction, cutting short her words.  She made to go to him but the look of deep hurt and betrayal in his eyes stopped her.   He lowered his eyes to the ground, then turned away and knowing that nothing she could say at that moment in time would make him feel better she let him go.  She’d give him a little time and then she’d go after him and explain. 

They would talk then. 

She’d force herself to face her darkest fears.

She’d make herself tell him the whole truth. 

The real reason why she couldn’t keep the baby.


	11. Chapter 11

Distantly, Ally heard the rumble of Jackson’s motorcycle as it started up.  She wanted to go after him, but she felt dizzy and light-headed all of a sudden, drained of energy.  She looked around herself a little dazedly, not entirely sure where she was, only then realising that they’d walked all the way to the local playground.  She stifled a sob, the irony not lost on her.  She walked over to the swings and wearily sat down on one, before closing her eyes and letting her feet drag in the bark chippings and sway her from side to side and back and forth.

A wave of nausea rose in her stomach and clenching her eyes shut she stopped moving.  She waited a beat, then with a hard swallow pushed to her feet a little unsteadily.  The playground held so many happy memories of her childhood, but also of when Jackson had come to her house for the first time, surprising her with his offer to go touring with him.  Before they’d ridden off together on his bike and to get away from her father’s incessant questioning, she’d shown him around where she lived, where she came from, so that he could get a better measure of her.  It was the beginning of their romance, of their life together, a beautiful yet at times troubled journey in so many ways. 

Ally heaved a sigh, deep sadness filling her heart at the thought that she’d jeopardised it all, and wiping at her tears made herself head back and face the music.  She knew her father would have questions, and she was ready for them.  But first she retrieved her purse from the truck and took out from the inner pocket where she’d safely stowed it her wedding ring, put it back on her finger where it belonged.  Jack had felt betrayed and let down by her actions, and rightly so.  She felt dizzy again, and closing her eyes she leaned her hand against the truck. 

“You okay?” Ramon asked softly, a comforting hand rubbing her back as he came up behind her.

She turned around and shook her head, her tears spilling again.  Blowing a breath, Ramon opened his arms and she fell into his embrace.  She was grateful for his unyielding support, but his were not the arms she wanted around her.  Taking a steadying breath, she tried to get a hold of herself.  When she pulled away from Ramon, she saw her father watching from the window, a worried expression on his face.  She gave him a tremulous smile, which he returned sadly.  Dropping the curtain, he went back inside.

“Did you tell him?” she asked Ramon, nodding toward the house.

Glancing at the house, Ramon shook his head.  “And he didn’t ask either.  He just sat there on the couch like his world was about to collapse.”

She nodded that she understood.  “Jack got it into his head that I was sick,” she said, wanting— _needing_ to explain his behaviour to Ramon.  “I mean, like real sick, which is why he freaked out.”

“Shit.”  He sighed.  “Did you...huh—”

“Tell him the truth?” she provided when he let his words trail.

He nodded, and she did too.

“Listen, Ally,” he went on hesitantly.  “I’m sorry about what I said to you in the truck before—the way I spoke to you…it wasn’t right.  I just never thought—I never realised that he could get so violent, you know?”

“He’s not violent,” she defended quietly, but even as she said the words she thought back to when he had punched his brother over the sale of their father’s ranch.  “He just got angry and frustrated because I lied to him.” 

“I just never saw this side of him before, you know?  Drunk, yes.  Loaded, too.  But like this?”  He sighed, considered her with concern.  “Has he ever…like…been violent toward you?  Is that why you don’t want the baby?”

“No,” she said categorically, “Absolutely not.  He would never hurt me—”

“He’s hurting you now.”

She paused.  “You know what I mean.  He’d never lift a finger on me.”  Her expression hardened.  “And I wouldn’t stay with him if he did.”

Nodding, Ramon lifted his hand to her shoulder, gave it a warm pat.

“He was angry, that’s all,” she repeated, “Because I lied to him.  And he lashed out.”  She gave Ramon a smile.  “I’m sorry he took it out on you; that wasn’t fair.”

Ramon lifted his shoulder, dismissing her apology.  “You were right, then,” he went on.

She frowned.  “How do you mean?”

“Well, the way he tore off up the road, like a bat out of hell, I figure he didn’t take the news of becoming a Daddy very well.”

Tears built in her eyes again.  She was about to disagree, when her father called her name.  Stopping in her tracks, she turned toward him, standing hesitantly by the front door.  Their eyes met, and she pinched her lips to stop her tears from spilling.  “I need to speak to Dad,” she said, turning back to Ramon, “but I’ll give you a ride home afterwards.”

“Nah, you’re okay,” Ramon said with an easy smile, stroking his hand to her arm affectionately.  “I can make my own way home.”  She opened her arms to him, and they embrace warmly.  “And I hope Jackson’s okay, you know…” he continued when they broke apart, letting his words trail meaningfully, but Ally knew exactly what he meant.  Ramon hesitated briefly before looking over at Lorenzo and after giving Ally a long parting smile turned on his heels.

“I’ll call you,” Ally called.

Without looking back, he waved his hand at her over his shoulder.

With a sigh, Ally reached for her purse and slamming the truck door shut turned toward her father. The look on his face triggered fresh tears. “Oh, Dad,” she said, “I made such a mess of everything.”

Blowing out a breath, Lorenzo came toward her and pulled her tightly against his chest.  “Come on, let’s get inside,” he said, steering her through the door and shutting it quietly after her.  They moved to the kitchen where he put the kettle on.  “So, what’s going on, huh?” he said, looking over his shoulder.  He’d aimed for a casual tone, but his concern came through nonetheless.

Tears falling, she averted her eyes and shrugged her shoulder.

Walking up to her, Lorenzo put a gentle finger under her chin and tilted it up.  “Ally, it’s me,” he said softly, “Dad.  Jackson was so upset that he was crying, here in our front room, in front of the guys.”  Pausing, he gave her an encouraging smile.  “Whatever it is, you know you can tell me, right?”

She pressed her lips together to stop from crying. “I know.”

“Then what is it?” he probed softly, prompting when she kept silent, “He thought you might be sick.  He kept saying cancer over and over again, but if that was the case, you’d have told me, right?”  He swallowed.  “Is that it, Ally?  You’re sick and you’re scared to tell me?”

Her expression softened.  She lifted her hand to his face.  “No, Dad.  I’m not sick.”

“Then are you having an affair?”

“No, Dad,” she denied vehemently.  “What the hell?  How can you ask that?”

 “It was Wolfie’s idea.”  Pausing, he lifted a mildly apologetic shoulder.  “The guy loves you too much, that’s his problem.”

“How can you love someone too much?” she asked in a whisper.

“When it stops you being your own person, that’s how.”

“Dad—”

“No, I mean it,” Lorenzo went on, cutting short her protestation.  “At this precise moment in time you hold the key to his happiness and it’s not healthy.”

“But Dad, don’t you see?” she defended quietly.  “It works both ways.  He holds the key to _my_ happiness too.”

Lorenzo waved her interruption away.  With a sigh, he turned around and set about making them mugs of sweet tea.  She kept silent, watching him as he worked, until he turned back toward her and thrust a hot mug into her hands.  “Careful,” he said, “It’s hot.”

She couldn’t help the smile that escaped, as she brought her lips to the mug, blowing on it before taking a cautious sip.

“Let me get you some lunch,” Lorenzo said.

“I’m not hungry.”

He opened the fridge and looked inside anyway.  “Ally, you got to eat.”

“Dad, I said I’m not hungry, alright?”

Pausing in his tracks at her sharp tone, he let the fridge door shut.  Then he reached for an opened packet of cookies from the cabinet and took two out, giving her one and keeping one for himself.  She knew what he was doing; he’d been doing it all her life.  He just stood there, watching her, eating and sipping at his tea, knowing full well that eventually she couldn’t keep in any longer what it was she needed to get off her chest.

“I’m pregnant,” she finally said in a resigned sigh, taking a small bite of the cookie.

A look of shock registered on his face.  “Pregnant?”

Lips to the mug, she nodded her head.  Lorenzo blew a breath, then he picked up the packet of cookies and motioned for them to go to sit in the living room to talk.  She preceded him there, folding a leg underneath herself as cradling her mug she took a seat in her usual place on the couch while he dropped down into the armchair.  He reached over to put his mug on the coffee table, drawing her gaze to a half-drunk cup of coffee that sat on a coaster there, which she guessed was Jackson’s.

“I take it Jack took the news badly then,” he remarked when munching on her cookie she lapsed into silence.

She smiled sadly.  “No, Dad, he didn’t.”  Her smile grew as she recalled Jack’s joy at hearing the news, before it trembled and more tears fell.  “ _I_ did.”

Lorenzo frowned in confusion.

“You know I don’t want children,” she stated quietly, wiping at her tears.

He considered her carefully.  “I was hoping that meeting Jackson had changed your mind.”  He sighed, waited for her to speak, asking when she didn’t, “So what?  You told Jackson you didn’t want to keep the baby, is that it?”

“Not in so many words, but…yeah.”

He gave a slow nod.  “You love him, don’t you?” he asked, his eyes searching hers for answers.

Her tears returned.  “More than anything, but…but—”

“And he loves you.  A child might just be what—”

She shook her head.  “Yeah, but—I mean, like…it’s not as simple as that, is it?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Look at you and mum,” she maintained.  “You loved each other too.”

His gaze averting uncomfortably, Lorenzo sighed.  “You’re not your mother, Ally.”  He brought his eyes back to hers.  “You’re nothing like her.  What happened to her _won’t_ happen to you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Sweetie, I wouldn’t let it.”  He shrugged, then picked up his mug and took a sip and she knew he was finding it hard opening up about what had happened with her mother.  “She was so young when she had you—” he went on wistfully.

“You both were.”

Refocusing, he acknowledged her point with a nod.  “She wanted you very much.  We both did.”  He gave his head a shake, as though trying to rid himself of the memories.  “Things are different now.”

Pondering his words, she sipped at her tea.  Already, she could feel the rush of sugar restoring her strength.  “Are they?  Really?”

He stared at her helplessly.  “They would be for you.”

She lowered her eyes.  “I’m sorry, Dad.  I know you’re disappointed.”

Shifting on the armchair, he reached for her hand lying on her lap and squeezed it.  “Ally, I’m never, ever disappointed in you.”

Tears welled again, and she stood up suddenly, setting the empty mug down on the table with a small crash.  “I should—”

“Don’t go,” Lorenzo pleaded.  “We haven’t finished talking yet.”

“I should go home—go to Jack.  He needs me.”

“Ally, please.”

She closed her eyes.  “Not now, Dad.  I can’t—It’s too much to think about right now.  I just want—I need to find him and explain.  Make sure he’s okay.”

Nodding, Lorenzo pushed to his feet.  “If there’s anything I can do to help, or if you just want to talk…you call me, alright?  No keeping nothing bottled up.  That’s not the way to go.”

“I know.”  Mustering a smile, she kissed her father’s cheek.  “Thank you.”

Lorenzo’s expression softening, he wrapped his arms around his daughter for a long and heartfelt hug.  “I love you, Ally, with all my heart.  Despite everything that happened with your mother, I never—” Choking up, he pulled back from her and, his lips pinching, sought her eyes.  “You’re the best thing that ever happened in my life.  Always remember that.”

With a hard swallow, she gave a nod.  Then she reached for her purse, and after giving him a small wave and a smile made for the door.

“You want me to come with you?” Lorenzo asked, following behind as she walked to the truck.

She paused with her hand on the handle.  “Thank you, but no.  This is something I got to do on my own.”

Lorenzo gave a slow, resigned nod.  She sensed her father’s concerned eyes watching as she got in the truck and fired up the engine, but she didn’t turn toward him.  In her haste to find her husband, she drove fast, through a veil of tears.  Even before she fully reached their house, she could see he wasn’t there.  Her heart sank, whatever small hope that he’d come home and taken refuge there vanishing.  She parked the truck outside the garage and let herself in, only half-heartedly returning Charlie’s warm welcome. 

She made it as far as the kitchen before dropping down onto a chair, folding over on herself in misery and biting her lip until she tasted blood.  Where was he? What if she’d caused him to relapse? Or worse? Reaching for her cell phone, she called him.  The call rang and rang until his voicemail picked it up.  She left a tearful message, asking him to come home, that she was there waiting, telling him that she loved him and would explain everything, or at least to call her back to let her know he was safe.  Then she called Bobby, but again the call went to voicemail and she left an even more fraught message.  She would like to think that if Jack had gone to see his brother Bobby would have got a message to her.

She wanted to believe that he was fine, that he was stronger than to succumb and fall at the first hurdle.  She wondered if he could have gone to Point Mugu to clear his head, but she didn’t want to drive all the way there for nothing, especially if he had just decided to go on a long bike ride.  Her nausea returned, her stomach churning with worry, with possibilities, and she rushed to the bathroom only just making it in time to bring up the tea and cookie she’d had at her father’s.

Afterwards, she rinsed her mouth, washed her face and went back to the kitchen to check her phone. Not even the sight of Charlie chasing his tail outside could raise a smile to her lips.  She thought of the life already growing inside her and stifled a sob.  She could not stop picturing the look of astonishment, of wonderment and happiness on Jackson’s face when she’d told him she was pregnant, followed by bewilderment, hurt and anger, and finally disappointment and betrayal when he realised that she didn’t want to keep the baby. 

He thought it was because of him, of his inadequacies and issues with addiction, but it wasn’t.  She was sure that once he brought his addiction under control Jackson would make a wonderful father, she just could not run the risk of turning into her mother.  When her mother had left and her world had fallen apart, she’d promised herself that she would never put a child through the same ordeal, and she meant it.  She just wished that she’d been strong enough to face up to those fears and broach the subject with Jackson before this moment.  And now he was shouldering all the blame.

Guilt tugged at her heart, and then shame.  What kind of wife did that make her?  “What have I done?” she cried.  “Oh, Jack, please, come home, come back to me and let me explain.”

She called his cell again, this time not bothering to leave a message when his voicemail clicked on.  Her mind conjured up images of him slumped over a bar, drowning his sorrows in the bottom of a gin bottle.  She was responsible for his relapse, and that for the second time.  He’d worked so hard at keeping sober, so very hard.  And then it came to her, a safe place he might have gone to.  Scraping the chair back as she stood up, she searched through the drawer in the kitchen where he kept random letters and papers and found a letter from his therapist. 

The twice-weekly sessions were helping – or so Jack had claimed.  With shaky hands, she pulled the single sheet out of the envelope, finding details of hourly charges and payment methods before finally locating Dr Cummings’ phone number. Quickly, she made the call, letting out a frustrating growl when yet again she reached an answerphone. Not so patiently, she listened to the outgoing message, waited for the tell-tale beep and said, her voice shaking, “Dr Cummings, hi.  My name is Ally Maine.  I’m Jack’s wife.  Jackson?  He—well—we…”  Rubbing at her face, she blew out a calming breath, “Something’s happened and well, now I’m worried about his state of mind.  I was wondering if…maybe he had come to see you?  Maybe he’s with you now?”  She paused, licked her dry lips and then left her number, asking the doctor to call her back as soon as he could, insisting that it was urgent.  She was barely keeping it together.

No sooner had she hung up than her father called.  Charlie lifted his front paws onto her lap, wanting attention, and answering the phone she moved to the living room, Charlie following in her wake.  “Sweetheart,” Lorenzo said.  “Have you found him?  Was he home?”

“No, Dad,” she replied in a small voice, sitting down on the couch.  “I haven’t heard from him at all.  I called his brother.  Hell, I even called his therapist.  No one’s picking up the phone.”  Charlie jumped up and nestled himself into her side with his head on her lap.  Her hand moved to it instinctively, and she stroked between his ears.  “I don’t know what to do.”

“Do you think—could he…”

“Be drinking in a bar?” she asked, when her father faltered.

He sighed.  “I could go look for him maybe.”

Her tears returned.  “And where would you start, huh?”

“Surely, you know where he likes to drink— _liked_ to drink,” he amended quietly.

“Jack didn’t do his drinking in any one place, Dad,” she said tersely, wiping the ball of her hand to her tears. 

“What else can I do?”

She sighed.  “Nothing, Dad.  There’s nothing you can do.  It’s my mess anyway.  I need to clean it up.”

“You home now?  You want me to come over?”

“It’s okay, Dad.  I’m fine.”

“You sure?  ‘Cause I can be with you in a heartbeat.”

His concern and undying support moved her.  For the longest of time, it had just been the two of them.  She’d forgotten how kind and caring he always was, how mutually supportive and tight their relationship was.  “Thank you, Dad, but I’m sure,” she finally said.  “You get yourself to bed.”

He paused, clearly hesitating.  “You know I’m there for you, right?”

She smiled sadly.  “I know.  Now go to bed, or you won’t be able to get up for work.”

When she finally hung up the phone, Ally brought her legs up and curled herself up on the couch. 

“Where’s Daddy, huh?” she asked Charlie.  The dog looked up at her, then shifted himself closer and closing her eyes she snuggled up to him.  She must have dozed off because the ringing of her cell brought her back to consciousness.  With a start and thinking it was Bobby calling her back, she felt around for her phone, finally locating it where it had fallen on the floor.  Checking the time, she hurriedly connected the call.

“Mrs Maine?” a male voice she didn’t recognise said.  “Dr Cummings here, returning your call?”

Ally sat up straighter.  “Hi, thank you for calling back.  I was hoping Jack was with you—”

“He’s not, I’m afraid.  We saw each other yesterday, and aren’t scheduled for another session until the day after tomorrow.  You said in your message that you were worried about his state of mind?”

“Yes.  It’s just…that, well, he’s disappeared and—”

“Disappeared?” Dr Cummings repeated with concern.

“Well, we had a fight and he got upset and he…walked off angry.  Now he won’t pick up my calls, and I don’t know where he is.”

Dr Cummings had a moment’s pause.  “How long ago was that?”

“A few hours? Three maybe?  And now I worry I’ve caused him to relapse, you know?”  Her tears returned.  “And he was doing so well with his recovery.” 

“It’s not your fault,” the doctor said, pre-empting her next words.  “He’s still at the very early stages and sadly relapse is all too common.  However much we want to, we can’t stop it from happening.  Only _he_ can.  Not that I’m saying it’s what’s happened here.  For all you know Jackson’s gone on one of his walks in the hills and forgotten about the time.”

“Not this time,” she said in a small voice.

“Addiction is a disease,” Dr Cummings went on, “a life-long disease which Jackson needs to learn to live with and control.  Isolating himself will only make it worse, he knows that.  If he has relapsed then he will need your help.  He will need you not to judge him, but to encourage him.  I don’t think I’m breaking patient/doctor confidentiality if I tell you that – if indeed he has relapsed – his feelings of worthlessness will have redoubled.  He’s going to feel devastated and humiliated afterwards because in his eyes he would have failed.  He knows he should reach out, but it’s going to be hard, and you might need to meet him half-way.” 

“I would if I knew where he was,” she said, calmer now.

“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.” 

She paused.  “Do you think he could—I mean, in your opinion is he…”

“Suicidal?” he offered, when she found herself unable to utter the word and ask the question burning on her lips.

She closed her eyes.  “Yes.”

Dr Cummings didn’t reply for some time.  “Mrs Maine, I’m afraid I can’t answer that question.  Addiction and suicide have a very complicated relationship, where addiction greatly increases the risk.  But,” he went on, emphasising the word, “We’ve been working on strategies to help him recognise the triggers and overcome negative ideation and I hope he can draw on those.” 

“I understand.”

“From your own admission, he’s been put in a stressful situation.  An emotional event, positive or negative may cause a relapse.  Treat addiction like any other chronic disease.  Relapse rates are high, just like they are for people with hypertension, asthma or type I diabetes.  Every day he has to work hard at keeping his condition under control, just like a diabetic does.”  He paused, and she heard a door open and shut.  “I’ve got a free slot tomorrow at ten.  Tell him to come and see me.”

 _If he’s home by then_ , she thought with a sigh. 

“I’ve got to go now.  I’m sorry,” Dr Cummings then said, refocusing her.

“Sure.  Thank you for talking with me.”

“You’re welcome.  And remember; tomorrow 10am.”  He paused.  “Why don’t you…come with him?”

Ally pondered the question for a long time after Dr Cummings had hung up, and she decided that she would, provided that Jack agreed of course.  She felt better for talking to Jackson’s therapist, and wished she’d done so sooner.   Even though she’d read up about substance addiction on the internet, there was so much she still didn’t understand, so many questions she wanted answered.  A relapse was something that together they could and would handle; the pregnancy on the other hand was a different matter.

With a sigh and her phone in her hand, she got up and returned to kitchen, poured herself a glass of water and made herself a little lunch she hardly touched.  She'd waited long enough for Jack to come home.  She needed to go looking for him.  She'd start at Old Joe's and go from there. She was grabbing her purse and calling Charlie when her phone rang.  She thought it was Bobby calling her back but the name flashing on the screen was Jackson’s.  Her heartbeat quickening in trepidation, she quickly connected the call.

“Oh, thank God, Jack,” she said, choking up, “I’ve been so worried.”  She paused and frowned, swallowing back her dread when all she heard was loud music playing in the background, “Jack, where are you?  You okay?”

She thought she heard him speak, but his voice was slurred, distant and drowned out. 

“Jack, where are you?” she tried again, almost shouting in case he couldn’t hear her over the noise.  “Tell me where you are please, so I can come and get you.”

“’msor-ry.”

Overwhelmed with relief, she closed her eyes and blew out a long breath.  “It’s okay, baby,” she whispered into the phone.  “Just tell me where you are.”

He’d reached out to her; that was all that mattered.


	12. Chapter 12

Jackson tried to explain where he was but even he didn’t know exactly.  When she was unable to make sense of his ramblings and he broke down in tears all she could do was to keep the cell glued to her ear while she locked up the house and clambered into the truck, Charlie swiftly climbing in after her.  The line went dead suddenly, and she swore, and cursed Jack for never bothering to get the truck fitted with a hands-free cell device.  Hurriedly, she called him back and put the call on speakerphone and the cell on her lap. 

“Oh, Charlie, no,” she then said, but even as she spoke she was already putting on her seat belt while starting up the truck.  When sitting up on his hind legs on the passenger side Charlie looked over at her, his expression suggesting that he was ready and she should get a move on, she smiled and shook her head in disbelief.  “You want to find Daddy too, don’t you?” she said, reaching a comforting hand over to him.

His cell was still ringing and, just when she expected his voicemail to pick up, a woman’s voice did.  She spoke quickly and in a hushed voice, and Ally had trouble hearing her over the rumble of the truck engine as she backed out of the drive, and the loud background music in the bar.  Stopping at the side of the road, she picked up the phone from her lap and finally managed to get the name and location of the bar, just off the 210 freeway some thirty miles away on the outskirts of San Fernando.

Ally put the truck in gear again and blowing out a long steadying breath set off.  She was half-way there when her cell rang again.  Picking it up off her lap, she checked the display before connecting the call when she saw it was from Bobby.  “Bobby, thank God you called,” she said, talking loudly as she drove.  “I found him.  I know where he is.  I’m on my way over now.”  She gave him what information she had, feeling an overwhelming wave of relief when he told her that he wasn’t far and he’d meet her there.

Ally reached the bar first.  The small lot to the side was almost empty, but she saw Jackson’s Harley parked up near the entrance.  When she got out of the truck, Charlie made to follow her and gently she pushed him back inside.  “It’s okay, Charlie, you wait here.  I won’t be long.”  She cracked the window open, then stroked between his ears and he sat back down behind the wheel.  She gave him a smile, took care while shutting the door and locked up.  Shouldering her purse, she jogged over to the entrance.  There were speakers outside, playing an old ZZ Top tune, and she could feel a headache developing already.  

It was dark inside, and removing her sunglasses she waited a beat for her eyes to get accustomed to the change of light.  One of the servers, a woman in her early twenties with a high ponytail and wearing skimpy shorts, a vest top that showed too much cleavage and knee-high boots, caught her eye and nodded toward a table at the back.  Ally followed with her eyes, finding Jackson slumped over the table with his back to her.  Understanding that the server was the woman she had spoken to on the phone, Ally nodded her thanks and made her way over to her husband. 

A few heads turned as she crossed the room but hoping the semi-darkness would disguise her identity she stared straight ahead and ignored them.  Jackson’s cell was on the table in front of him next to a half-drunk bottle of gin, the glass in his hand empty.  Her heart clenching, she prised the glass from his fingers, then shook his shoulder to rouse him.  He didn’t stir.

“Jack,” she said, shaking his shoulder a second time.  “Jack?” she tried again, leaning closer to his ear this time and rubbing her hand to his back when he still didn’t respond.  “Jack, it’s me, Ally.” 

He made a sound, tried to lift his head up off the table but his eyes were closed and his head wobbled precariously.  “Ally? ’syou?”

She smoothed hair back from his face tenderly.  “Yes, it’s me.”

“Youcame?”  He scrunched his eyes shut, then made to blink them open several times before raising his hand off the table but missing hers completely when he reached for it.  “Didn’t think you would.”

She swallowed.  “Jack,” she said in a sigh, “How much have you had to drink?”

His head swayed as again he tried to focus on her.  “I may’ve'd a couple.  S’rry.”

Anger flared suddenly.  “Only a couple, huh? You took drugs too?”

“No!” Sounding almost aggrieved, he tried to sit taller, but his head flopped forward as if it was too heavy for his neck to support.  “No,” he went on in an overloud whisper, “no drugs.”

She looked all around them to make sure they were still alone.  “Come on, then,” she said, moving behind him and slipping one hand under his left arm while draping the other around his opposite shoulder to lift him up.  “Let’s get you up and on your feet and out of this place, hey?”

“You need to pick up his tab first,” a male voice said, startling her.

Turning, she fixed the man with a dark stare.   “Why did you even fucking serve him?” she snapped before she could stop herself.  “Don’t you know he’s an alcoholic?”

The bartender held up his hands.  “Not my problem,” he said, talking over Jackson who was mumbling unintelligibly.  “If I stopped every drunk that walks into my bar from drinking, I’d be out of a job.”

Ally’s face darkened.  She released the weak hold she had on her husband and before she could control herself whipped around, raising her fist to strike.  

“Ally!”  Bobby called abruptly before she made contact.  “Don’t.”

Stopping short, Ally looked over to where Bobby stood behind the bartender before averting her eyes and lowering her fist.

“How much does he owe?” Bobby asked, stepping forward and taking his wallet out of his back pocket when the bartender turned toward him.

Slurring his words, Jack swore and pushing off the table unsteadily tried to get up.  Ally rushed to help him, putting her arms around his midriff to help support his weight. 

“There,” Bobby said, dropping a wad of twenty-dollar bills on the table, “That should more than cover it.”

Fully upright now, Jackson said something under his breath, then threw a misjudged punch in the bartender’s direction before swinging forward and losing his balance when he missed entirely.

“Goddamnit, Jack,” Bobby said through gritted teeth, as quickly he caught his brother and wrapping his arm around him waist hoisted him up. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough? Now’s not the time to make more of a fucking fool of yourself than you’ve already done.”

Jack twisted his body out of Bobby’s grasp but lacking both strength and coordination he stumbled forward and Bobby only just managed to catch him again before he fell flat on his face.  

“Take him out of here,” the bartender snarled.

“Come on, buddy,” Bobby said, holding his brother’s half-open eyes steadily.  “Let’s not make a scene.”

“Don’t look at me like I’m some piece of dog shit you’ve just stepped on,” Jack spat, his words coming out in one long garbled mumble.

“That’s all in your head, Jack,” Bobby said in a sigh.  “All in your fucking head.  Now let’s get you out of this fucking dive and back home.”

Ally picked up his cell from the table and his motorcycle helmet from the chair next to where he’d sat.  “Please, Jack,” she pleaded, moving on Jackson’s other side and hooking her free arm through his doing what little she could to support his weight.  “Come on.  Charlie’s waiting in the truck for you.”

Jackson perked up instantly.  “Charlie’s here?”

With difficulty and with Bobby supporting most of Jack’s weight, they made it out of the bar.

“Son of a bitch, Jack, what is it this time, huh?” Bobby muttered under his breath, as they half-carried, half-dragged him to the truck.  “I’m too fucking old to be hauling your ass around like this.  When the fuck will you learn that the answer to your goddamn problems isn’t at the bottom of a fucking bottle?”

Charlie stood up, his tail beating wildly when he caught sight of them through the window.  Bobby propped Jack up against the truck while holding up his other side, and disentangling herself Ally rummaged inside her purse for the keys.  Charlie let out a happy bark, and moving closer to take a better look Jack banged his head against the window.

“There’s my boy,” he said, grinning at Charlie through unfocused eyes as the dog pushed his snout through the crack.

“What the hell happened, huh?” Bobby asked Jack in a quiet voice.   “Just when I thought things were looking up.  Fuck, Jack, I was in San Diego with Willie when Ally called!”

The smile dropped off Jackson’s face.  “Ask her,” he said, his voice surprisingly clear all of a sudden as he nodded his head in her direction.  He spoke again, but his speech was once against indistinct and worried what he’d tell his brother Ally spoke over him.

“I’m sorry, Bobby,” she said, finally unlocking the truck.  “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Bobby sighed.  “Sweetie, that rant wasn’t directed at you.  You did the right thing calling me.”

“She’s fucking pregnant,” Jackson said in a loud drunken voice.  “That’s what the hell happened.”

Ally could feel Bobby’s eyes on her as he sought confirmation, but she avoided them.  “Jack, please, keep your voice down,” she said, looking around the car lot uncertainly.

“So now you get wasted even when you get good news?” Bobby said, stepping back from Jack who teetered on the spot unsteadily.  “What the fuck’s wrong with you!”

Clamping his jaw, Jack looked up.  He curled his lips at his brother, but held his tongue before looking at Ally.  His blue eyes were wide, piercing as he stared at her, silently pleading with her to tell the truth and set his brother straight. 

“Jack please,” she said in a beseeching whisper.  “Don’t do this.”

His face crumpled and looking away he stifled a dry sob.

Bobby opened the passenger door and tail beating happily Charlie came forward. “Come on, Charlie, get out of the way,” Bobby said, gently pushing the dog back onto the driver’s seat. 

Jack’s lip trembled.  “She doesn’t want it,” he went on in a mumble, lifting his leg up as if making to get into the truck but staggering forward when he missed.  “And I don’t blame her.  I’d make as fucked-up a father as Dad was to us.” 

“That’s not true,” Ally defended weakly.

“Probably turn every kid I had into my drinking buddy,” he muttered on, once again trying to lift one leg up into the truck.

“Ally’s right, Jack,” Bobby said, calmer now as clapping his brother’s shoulder he helped him up into the cab.  “Let’s not do this here.”

“Ally?”

Ally’s ears pricked.  Her heart sinking, she slowly turned toward the voice. 

The young server from the bar stood a few meters away, watching uncertainly.  “Is he going to be okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” Bobby said curtly, and she could tell that like her he worried about bad publicity and the server's intentions.

“Bobby, it’s okay,” she said, putting a pacifying hand on his arm, and then walking up to the server, “Thank you for telling me where he was.” 

The server gave her a nod and a hesitant smile, and glancing at Bobby Ally reached inside her purse and took out a twenty-dollar bill.

“Oh,” the server said with surprise, when Ally held it out to her.  “I don’t want your money.  I didn’t do it for the money, and I won’t tell anyone, I swear, if that’s what you’re worried about.  I just…”  Shrugging she glanced toward Jackson in the truck.  “I just wanted to tell you that…well, if it’s any consolation, he stared at his first glass without drinking it for a very long time.”

Ally gave a small smile.  “Thank you.” 

The server nodded.  “I’d better get back.”

Ally looked at her hand and held the bill out again.  “Take this, please.  Jack’s normally a great tipper.”

The server’s face lit up, and nodding she took the money before slipping it in the back pocket of her shorts.  Ally watched as she retraced her steps back inside, then turned back to Bobby who was watching her.  Her gaze flicked over to Jackson and Charlie next to him, and she stepped past Bobby to do up his seat belt before she’d set off.

“The bike,” Jack said suddenly, opening his eyes and pushing against Ally as, struggling against Charlie who was trying to help, she reached across his chest to do the belt, “I came on the Harley.” Clumsily, he felt his hand to the truck door and made to step out but Bobby held him back. 

“It’s okay, buddy.  I’ll ride it home for you.”  Bobby paused and looked around the lot, thinking.  “Ally, I’d rather not leave my truck here.  Is it okay if you take Jack back home in it and leave his here?”

She looked over to his new truck parked alongside Jack’s battered one.  With a sigh, Bobby felt Jackson’s jacket pockets, soon retrieving the keys to the Harley.  Pocketing them, he beeped his own truck open and they helped Jack into it with Charlie clambering on afterwards.  With Charlie on his lap, Jack leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes.  Ally did his belt, then shut the door.

“He’s lucky it’s still in one fucking piece,” Bobby mused, looking at Jackson’s motorcycle, when she joined his side.

“You ridden before?” she asked.

The ghost of a smile forming on his weary face, he turned to look at her.  “Who do you think taught him?  Not our father, that’s for fucking sure.”  He chuckled to himself.  “I had to give it up, you know.  Bad hips.”

Smiling, she rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.  “Thank you.  About the pregnancy…it’s—” 

“You don’t have to explain.  It’s between you and Jackson.”

She shrugged, nodded.  “I don’t know what I – and Jack – would do without you.”

“You’d manage.”  His expression softening, he forced his head into the too-tight helmet and rolled his eyes.  “You go on first and I’ll follow all the way back to yours, okay?”

Ally drove Bobby’s truck slowly and cautiously.  It was the most expensive vehicle she’d ever driven and she didn’t want to damage it.  As she drove, she kept stealing glances at Jack, but with his head turned toward the window and slightly lolling forward he looked fast asleep.  Charlie sat with his head on Jack’s lap, his body on the bench seat, dozing too.  Once again, her gaze veered to the rear view mirror as she checked that Bobby was still following, and he was.  Five minutes later, Jack lurched forward suddenly. 

“Stop the truck,” he said through gritted teeth.

Startling, she glanced at him.  “What?  Jack, what’s wrong?”

He scrunched up his face.  “I’m going to be sick.  Stop the fucking truck.” 

Looking in the mirror, Ally slammed on the brakes, causing Jack to jerk forward again and Charlie to slip into the footwell with a yelp.  “Shit.  Sorry,” she said.

Jackson had released his seat belt and fumbled for the door handle before she’d even come to a full stop at the roadside.  By the time she’d run around to his side, he was leaning out of the truck, being sick.  Before she could stop him Charlie jumped down past him, sniffing at the vomit from a distance.  “Charlie, stay here,” Ally called when he began to stray and a car drove past them at speed.  “Charlie, I said stay here!”

This last command did the trick and Charlie came back before lifting his leg and peeing on Bobby’s tyre.  “Shit, come on both of you!” she cried.  “Give me a fucking break!”

Bobby, who in the meantime had pulled up behind them, rushed over and surveyed the damage.  “Better out than in,” he said.  Putting his hand on Ally’s shoulder, he craned his neck and looked past Jack inside the cabin.

“I stopped just in time,” she said, unable to suppress her smile of amusement.

“Getting the smell out of upholstery is a bitch,” he explained. 

“He’s not normally sick,” she said, frowning.

“His body’s getting used to staying sober.  Now it’s rejecting what it doesn’t want.”

“That’s good, right?”

Bobby smiled.  “It’s good and deserved.” 

He patted his brother on the back, then opened the back door and took out a bottle of water he uncapped and held out to him.  Jack brought the bottle to his lips, spilling more than he drank, before bending forward and pouring the rest over his head.  She realised then that he was drunk, but not so drunk that he didn’t know what he was doing.  He used his shirt to wipe his mouth, then his face, stayed with his head bowed for long seconds before he straightened up with a wince and pulled himself back up into the cab.  He never once met hers or Bobby’s watchful eyes.  Bobby helped buckle him up before quietly shutting the door.

“He’s going to be fine,” he said, patting his hand to her shoulder, and she wished it were that simple.

The rest of the ride home was quiet, Jack forcing his eyes to remain open and steadfast on the road ahead but with little success. He woke up enough to stagger to the bedroom, take off his jacket, dropping it on the floor before falling face down on his side of the bed.  Charlie watched for a moment, his eyes flicking between him and Ally uncertainly, before he jumped up and curled himself up in Jack’s side.  With a sigh, Ally bent down and pulled off Jackson’s boots and bringing his legs up he buried his face deeper in the pillow and began to snore.  She picked up his jacket and sat down at the edge of the mattress with it on her lap. 

Her hand lifted to his head and she pushed his greasy hair back away from his face, stroking over his furrowed brow, his eyelids down to his nose and his parted lips.  She could feel his warm breaths on her fingertips.  “Oh, Jack,” she gasped, “what am I going to do?” 

For a moment, she remained still and silent, watching as he slept.  She was considering lying down beside him and Charlie when she remembered Bobby was there, waiting to give her a ride back to the bar so she could pick up Jack’s truck.  Standing, she ran her fingertip along his jawline, then leaned over to deposit the lightest of kisses on his lips and when stirring he mumbled in his sleep she quietly left the room.

She found Bobby in the kitchen, pouring bottled iced tea into two tall glasses.  “I’ve put the Harley away in the garage,” he said when he noticed her standing there.  Smiling, he held out one of the glasses to her.  “Tell him, it’s low on gas.”

Nodding, she took the proffered glass and had a long drink.  “You had fun riding it?” she asked afterwards.

He laughed.  “Oh, it’s a beautiful bike.  Before you came along, it was his pride and joy.”  He gave her a wink, and she smiled.  “You look tired.  Why don’t you go sit in the living room while I make us something to eat?  I haven’t eaten all day, and I doubt you have either.”

“You don’t want to go pick the truck up?”

“We got time for that.  And besides, I thought we could ask Phil to do it.”

She paused.  “No.  I don’t want anyone to know.”

Bobby sighed.  “That girl in the bar.  The server.  She knows.  She knew who he was, just as she knew who _you_ were.”

Nodding, she took another sip of iced tea and then set her glass down on the island.

“What are you doing?” he asked, frowning when she opened the fridge. 

“Helping you.”

Bobby made some sandwiches while Ally cut up a tomato, some cucumber and peppers for a side salad.  Charlie wandered in, and her head shaking she refilled his bowls. They worked silently, efficiently, before taking their simple dinner and topped-up glasses to the living room.  Ally set her drink down on the low table, then sat down on one couch, tucking her legs beneath her and propping her plate on her lap, while Bobby tiredly dropped down onto the second couch.  She picked up one of the sandwiches and suddenly feeling hungry took a hearty bite.   When she looked up, Bobby was watching her as he ate, a fond look on his face. 

“We’ve been here before, haven’t we?” she said, smiling.  “You and me.”

Bobby smiled too.  “And I’m sure we’ll be here again.” 

“Jack needs our help, Bobby,” she said, the resignation in his tone pulling at her heart.  “I don’t think he can do it on his own.”

“I know.”  With a sigh, he put the rest of the sandwich he was munching on in his mouth.  “I’m sorry I missed your call earlier,” he went on, chewing.

“It’s okay.  I don’t expect you to drop everything every time Jack falls off the wagon.”

“I know.”  He finished his mouthful.  “Jack’s my brother, the only family I got. Apart from you now, of course,” he added with a soft smile, his eyes averting to his lap self-consciously.  “And it’s my job to look after him.”  Looking back up, he gave a quiet chuckle.  “He’s like the unruly son I never had.”  Pausing, he took in a deep breath he let out slowly.  “I don’t know, sometimes I think all this is my fault, like maybe I didn’t try hard enough to keep him on the straight and narrow after Dad died.  He just…he was so angry, at Dad, at me and the world.”  He sighed.  “It was hard to get through to him, it still is.”

“This isn’t your fault, Bobby.  His addiction is a disease.”

“I know, but he wasn’t always an alcoholic.  And the pills, well, he only started taking them because of the tinnitus.  I mean he was always a heavy drinker, we all were, but…”

“You knew when to stop,” she finished for him when he trailed off.

Bobby gave a nod.  “I should have seen it coming.  I should have read the signs.  God knows…I’ve known enough drunks in my life to have known better.  It’s only in the last few years that it got really bad.”  He smiled.  “And then it got a little better when he met you.”

Her smile was sad and knowing.  “And then bad again when my career took off,” she mused quietly.

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to imply that this was your fault, ‘cause it’s not.”

Leaning forward, she reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze.  “I know.  Why didn’t you ever…get married?” she asked uncertainly after a long moment in companionable silence while they finished their food.  “Or settle down, you know.”

Bobby didn’t answer for some time.  “At first, I was always on the road, touring, either on my own or later with Jack.  I mean there were women, don’t get me wrong, but…”  he shrugged. “I guess I never…”

“Found the one?”

He gave a sad laugh.  “It’s so cliché, isn’t it?”

“There’s still time.”

He laughed.  “I have settled down though, just on my own.” 

Finishing the last of her drink, she gave a musing nod. 

“Jack’s lucky to have found you,” he went on after a beat. 

“It works both ways,” she said, smiling softly.  “Without Jackson, it’d still be waiting tables and singing somebody else's songs on a Friday night.”

“I don’t believe that.  If it hadn’t been Jackson, it would have been someone else.”

She made a dubious face.

“Someone with your talent, Ally, it was only a matter of time before it happened.”

Pondering his words, she kept silent.  She knew that she and Jackson, despite appearances, were one of a kind, that right from the start their connection – and their love for one another – had been immediate and strong, deep and unshakeable. They needed each other in ways Bobby or even her father could not understand.  Only Jackson had been able to see past the strong defences she’d built around her through to her core and soul, that whatever talent she didn’t really know she had had laid dormant, locked up inside her, until he came along with the key.  

“Still,” Bobby mused, drawing her back to the present, “not many wives would have stuck around after what he put you through, you know, at the Grammys and since then.”

A slow smile spread across her face.  “That wasn’t his best moment, was it?”

Bobby scoffed.  “No, it wasn’t.”

“Do you believe in fate?” she asked, changing tack.

Bobby pursed his mouth as he considered her question.  “I think we make our own choices in life.”

Nodding, she lapsed into silence again.  Several times, Bobby looked on the verge of saying more.  His eyes would drift down to her abdomen and she knew he wanted to ask about the pregnancy.  But he thought better of it, and she was grateful for his discretion, for his wise and quiet support.  She loved that about him, the fact that he wasn’t pushy, overbearing or judgemental.  He knew how messy and complicated life was, how it wasn’t all black and white but many shades of grey.

Bobby’s words stayed with her long after they went to pick up Jack’s truck and she came home again. She called her father and Ramon, leaving messages of reassurance to both. Exhausted, she locked up the house, got undressed and slipped into bed.  And as she lay awake next to a softly snoring Jack, mindlessly stroking Charlie’s side, she still pondered the question.

Did one make their own destiny in life?

She thought about her mother and all her issues with motherhood and how it was impacting her own choices now. 

Was she on the same path her mother had been? 

Or could she change that and carve out, for herself and Jack, a different destiny?

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, Lady Gaga's lyrics, from her song 'Dope', are in italics in the chapter. 
> 
> I wish I could write songs for them but I can’t, so I’ve borrowed (and changed - very slightly) another beautiful song. This time, it’s ‘One More Light’ by Linkin Park and again the lyrics are in italics in the text. The way I hear it in my head when Ally sings and plays it on the piano is a bit quicker than the original and in a lower key, not that I’m saying that the original isn’t perfect as it is. Because it is. It’s just the way I’m hearing it when Ally does it.

Ally awoke to her favourite sound, the sound of Jackson’s music, this time as he played at the piano.  His side of the bed was neither cold nor empty but the soft snores that came from it were not his.  A smile formed, and rubbing sleep from her eyes she glanced at the bedside clock.  It was nearing six am; she’d slept almost ten hours straight, which hadn’t happened in a very long time.  She felt strangely calm and at peace despite the slight queasiness in her stomach, surprising really considering the events of the previous day. 

She got up without disturbing Charlie, slipped on her robe and padded barefoot to the living room.  Freshly showered, Jack sat in his boxer briefs and a faded Led Zeppelin T-shirt at the piano.  His hair was still wet, slicked back from his face.  A banana peel and half-drunk glass of milk sat on the piano top. He was picking out a melody she didn’t know using his right hand only.  He turned, stiffening slightly when she came in fully, but didn’t look at her in the eye.  He just turned back to the piano and lifting his left hand to the keys continued playing.  His body radiated guilt, shame and self-loathing, just like his therapist had predicted, but he looked collected and composed. 

She circled her arms around him for a hug before sitting down to his left on the piano bench.  He stopped playing suddenly, and she cursed herself for interrupting him when he was so peaceful and focused, but then he just started over with a different melody she recognised as the new song he was working on.  Her eyes on his hands slowly moving over the keys, she leaned her head on his shoulder and listened while he played.  It was such a beautiful melody and she prayed that he could finish it.  When she least expected it, he began to sing.  His voice was so raw and quiet that she had to close her eyes just to hear him. 

“ _I know I fucked up again_ ,” he sang, just off-key.  “ _’Cause I lost my only friend_.”

“You didn’t,” she whispered, looking over to him.

“ _Please forgive my sins_ ,” he sang on, his eyes filling as they stared at his hands.  “ _Don’t leave me or, I’ll hate myself until I die_.”

“Oh, Jack,” she said, her heart breaking for him at how troubled and in pain he was.  Draping her arm around his waist, she leaned against him. “Don’t say that, please.”

“ _My heart would break without you_  
_Might not awake without you_  
_Been hurting low, from living high for so long_  
_I’m sorry and I love you, sing with me, I beg of you._  
_I’m still searching for an answer ‘cause I love you more than dope.”_

His voice trailing, he lifted his hands off the keys and closed his eyes, the tears that had stood poised in his eyes finally spilling.  Reopening his eyes, he finally turned toward her, repeating in a whisper, “I love you more than dope.” 

“Oh, my God, Jack, you’ve done it!” she exclaimed, delighted that he’d managed to fit the words to the melody so beautifully.  

His smile was sad.  “It’s not finished.”

“No, but—don’t you see?”  A wide smile breaking across her face, she closed her arms around him.   “I’m so proud of you,” she murmured into his ear, choking up.  “So very proud.”  His body began to shake in her arms and her heart clenching she tightened the grip she had on him.  “I love you, Jack.  Always remember that.”

“I’m sorry,” he cried in her shoulder, “So fucking sorry for…everything that happened yesterday.”

She pushed back from him gently and cupping her hands to his face sought his eyes ardently, giving him no choice but to look at her.  “I know you are,” she whispered, holding his gaze steadily as she used her fingers to wipe at his tears. 

He lowered his eyes shamefully, then twisted his head out of her hands.  “When I went to see your Dad, and then after with Ramon…”  He gave his head a shake and then looked back up at her tearfully, “And the way I spoke to you afterwards…it was so fucking ugly and cruel and hurtful and I didn’t mean any of it.”  He took in a fraught breath.  “I feel so…ashamed and so goddamn fucking powerless, you know?  I’m so powerless to control the thoughts and my behaviour and stop it from happening.”  He paused to catch his breath.  “And before I’ve even had time to… process what’s happening it’s happened already, you know?  I—I…it just fucking takes over.”

“It’s okay,” she said softly, not sure exactly what else she could say to make his pain go away.  "It's okay."

“No, it’s not okay,” he insisted, his voice rising again.  “That’s the thing, Ally, it’s not okay.  It can never be okay.”

She touched her hand to his face and when he didn’t pull back brushed his hair back from his eyes so she could look at him while she talked.  “I know it’s the disease, Jack.  It’s the disease that makes you act like that, that makes you say those things.  My father knows that, Ramon too.  What happened yesterday happened, and we can’t change it.  You can’t take it back.  But you—we got to move on from it.”  He lowered his eyes from hers.  “Together, Jack, we can move forward, okay?”

Bringing his eyes back up, he swallowed and gave a hesitant nod.

“Okay?” she asked again, more firmly.

A small smile formed on his lips, spreading to the rest of his face, as he nodded his head more enthusiastically.  His expression was softer now, less anxious than it had been moments before, and she could even see a glint of mischief in his eyes when he said, “I love it when you get all bossy on me.”

Her mouth twisted in a grudging smile. “Oh, you do, do you?”

Leaning forward, he touched his lips to the corner of her mouth.  “I do.”

The way he was looking at her, his tone of voice as he spoke right then, were so reminiscent of the day they’d taken their wedding vows that she paused.  Pinching her lips, she averted her gaze uncertainly.  She thought about bringing up the pregnancy and explaining to him that he was wrong, that _she_ was the reason for not wanting the baby, but afraid of upsetting the balance, of upsetting him – and her – so soon after they’d reconciled she didn’t.  She knew the topic was the elephant in the room, but for whatever reason he hadn’t broached it.  She promised herself she would, just not right then.

“I’ve got something for you,” she said, smiling as she pushed to her feet.

He frowned.  “What?”

She tapped her finger to the tip of his nose.  “You’ll see.”

“Am I going to like it?” he asked, swivelling on the bench as she headed for the door.

“I hope so.”  Her smile broadening, she stopped at the threshold.  “Just…just stay here, where you are.  I’ll be right back.”

She went to the kitchen but her purse wasn’t there, and then remembering that her notebook wasn’t in it anyway she searched around until she finally located it under the bed. Jack started up on the piano again, this time playing _The Sound of Silence_ , and Charlie lifted his head off the bed before standing up fully and shaking himself.  She retrieved the book and then quickly swapped her robe for some sweatpants and a crop tank top.  Flicking through the pages, she went to open the patio doors so Charlie could go out before rushing back to the living room.  Jackson stopped playing, and she sat down next to him with the songbook in her lap. 

“You know how…” She sighed, hesitating, “How you’ve been complaining that I’ve been writing a lot—”

“Not complaining,” he said quietly, “Just remarking.”

She gave a nod.  “You know how—how you’ve been _remarking,”_ she said, the ghost of a smile on her lips, _“_ that I’ve…been writing a lot lately and not sharing like I normally would, and well, I don’t have a title for it yet and it’s not even finished but…well, I’m ready to share a song with you.”

Jackson’s shoulders straightened as he shifted his bare legs on the bench. 

“It’s—it’s kind of sad, introspective, you know…” 

She stopped and picked up the book and stared at it, suddenly unsure if she was doing the right thing.  She hoped her new music could be the way to help him, just as it was helping her come to terms with what was happening.  Maybe if she told him through her songs how she felt, how his actions made her feel, if he realised how very much loved he was, then maybe he could cope with the cravings and his demons more easily and maybe even begin to heal.  Taking a breath, she looked back up. 

“It’s going to be on my next album,” she went on decisively.  “In fact, it’s going to be the _first_ song on my next album and you’re going to play guitar on it when I record it and…”  Her voice cracked, tears rose in her eyes and she blinked hard to keep them in.

“Hey, hey,” he said, standing up abruptly.  He walked around to her side, took the songbook from her hands and placed it on the music stand.  Then his eyes locking to hers as he took her trembling hands in his, he knelt down on the floor and gently rotated her body toward him.  “What are you so scared of, huh?”

Her shoulder lifted, and with a sigh he brought her hands to his face.

“I promise I won’t get upset, okay?  I’m in a good place right now.”  He pointed at his head.  “All my synapses are firing as they should.”

She smiled.  “You sure?”

Pressing a kiss to her hands, he gave a soft nod. 

“Okay.”  She pulled her hands out of his, pulling him up to his feet at the same time, and scooting over to the middle of the bench patted the space where she’d just sat for him.  Turning to the piano, she opened the songbook at the correct page and raising her hands to the keyboard blew out a long breath.  “You understand I haven’t played this before, right?” she said, lowering her hands back to her lap as she turned toward him.  “Not outside of my head anyway.”

He flicked his eyes from the lyrics on the page to her.  “Play already!”

She shrugged.  “It’s a big deal for me.  A new album, new songs, a new sound—”

“Ally,” he said in a disparaging tone. 

“What if you don’t like it?”

“I’m liking it already.”

“Jack—”

“When have I ever not loved something you’ve written, huh?” he argued.

Her brow rose, and she scoffed in disbelief.  “Oh, yeah?  Really?” she challenged, alluding to the lyrics to _Why did you do that?_

The smile twitching at his lips told her he was on the same page.  “Quit stalling,” he said.  “I’m hungry and I’ve got pancake batter waiting for us.”

She burst out laughing.  He stared at her intently, probingly, silently urging her to get started, and she turned back to the piano with a sigh.  Once again bringing her hands to the keyboard, she breathed deeply and started to play the melody.

 _“’I should have stayed,”_ she began in a hoarse voice, and laughing self-consciously stopped to clear her throat.

His hand moved to her leg and he squeezed it comfortingly.  “Now _I’m_ nervous!” he said, in a soft chuckle.

He squeezed her leg again, and composing herself, she blew a deep breath and started again.

 _“’I should have stayed,”_ she sang again, her voice stronger and steadier this time. _“Were there signs I ignored?_  
_Can I help you, not to hurt anymore?_  
_We saw brilliance, when the world was asleep_  
_Are there things that we can have, but can't keep?”_  
_If they say,"_

Her voice shook again, but keeping her eyes on her hands she made herself continue.

 _“Who cares if one more light goes out?_  
_In a sky of a million stars_  
_It flickers, flickers_

 _"Who cares when someone's time runs out?_  
_If a moment is all we are_  
_Or quicker, quicker_

_"Who cares if one more light goes out?”_

She stopped paying, but kept her fingers poised over the keys before she pressed them and sang as she turned toward him. _“Well I do.’”_

Wary of his reaction, she dropped her hands to her lap and watched him intently.  He sat motionless with his hands clasped together between his legs and his shoulders hunched around his bowed head.  His hair fell forward, covering part of his face and hiding his expression, and when she dipped her head she saw that his closed eyes were wet with tears.  Her heart broke at the thought that she’d failed him, that instead of appeasing him she’d reawaken his demons.  It was so hard to do this, to see him when he was like this, to hurt him when all she wanted to do was take his pain away.  She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and hold him tight but she didn’t lest he pushed her away.

“Jack?” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. 

“Am I the light?” he asked in a choked up voice, turning toward her.

“Yes,” she said softly, holding his teary gaze steadily. “In my world you are.  And in Bobby’s too.” 

With a hard swallow, he nodded his head slowly and looked away.  “Did you—is it about…”  He brought his hand to his mouth and then to his forehead nervously before he forced his eyes back to hers.  “Is it about what happened the other week?  You know, in the…”  The word got stuck in his throat, and his hand coming up to cover his mouth again he swallowed.

“In the garage when you tried to end your life?” she provided, adding when he gave a quiet nod of the head, “Yes.  I—we love you so much, Jack, and well I wanted to put down into words how…what your actions made me – and Bobby – feel.”  A giggle bubbled out of her, and he looked over at her with surprise. She shrugged.  “Bobby helped me out with the first verse actually.  Yesterday in this very room, when we were here talking.” 

He frowned.  “Bobby knows about this?” 

“Oh, no.  No, he doesn’t.  He just said something, and it clicked in my head.”  She offered him a smile.  “Nobody knows about this but us, and I want to keep it that way a little while longer.” 

Jack gave a nod that he understood.  “It’s…beautiful.” 

“You think so?” she asked with relief. “‘Cause I know it still needs a lot of work but—” 

He lifted his hand from his lap and covered her mouth with it.  “It’s perfect.” 

A smile formed, growing wide until it lit up the whole of her face.  

“You got more songs in there?” he asked, nodding at her songbook.

“I do, but not today.” 

Pulling a mock-disgruntled face, he got to his feet.  “Stay right there,” he said, rushing out of the room. 

She frowned.  “Jack, what are you doing?” she called.  “What about breakfast?  I’m hungry.” 

“Breakfast can wait,” he said, looking and sounding excited as he returned with his acoustic guitar.  Looking at it with a frown, he blew the dust off it then used his T-shirt to wipe off the rest.  “Sorry Jimmy,” he muttered, wincing as he then brushed the dust off his Led Zeppelin T-shirt with the back of his hand.  

She laughed.  “Jack, what are you doing?”

He didn’t reply.  He just slipped the guitar strap over his head and resting the guitar on his thigh sat down at the end of the bench with his back to her.  “Go on,” he said, grinning at her over his shoulder.  “I’m ready.” 

Her puzzlement intensified.  “Ready for what?” 

He nodded at the piano.  “Give me the key.  For the song.” 

Her face lit up.  Turning to the piano, she did as bid.  He picked a few notes on the guitar, tried a few chord progressions, then tuned a couple of strings and gave her the nod.  Still unsure of his intention, she began to play and when he joined in, trying to harmonise his playing to hers, she laughed and started over.  For almost an hour, they lost themselves in the music and forgot about his addiction and the pregnancy.  It was just the two of them making music together again, which she realised with a pang of sadness they hadn’t done at all ever since she’d gone solo.  

“Okay, that’s enough for now,” he said when they reached a natural break, getting up and lifting the guitar strap over his head before carefully setting the instrument down on the couch.  “Breakfast time.” 

Ally could only stare at him with her mouth half-open as winking at her he walked out of the room, Charlie hot on his heels.  She remained sitting at the piano a while longer, her head shaking in disbelief at what had just taken place, hoping yet again that they’d turned a corner, her heart sinking when she remembered that they still hadn’t broached the pregnancy.  Pushing to her feet, she picked up the glass of milk and banana peel from the piano and drinking the last of the milk made her way to the kitchen.  Jackson had a skillet already warming up on the stove and the pancake mixture ready on the side. 

As Charlie circled their legs expectantly, Ally set the table, gathering syrup and fruit she washed at the sink while Jackson cooked the pancakes.  They chatted as they ate, Ally picking cautiously at the food at first lest it set off her nausea again before she ate more heartily.  They still weren’t discussing the pregnancy, and she wondered whether he’d blanked it from his memory, then figured that just like her he was too anxious to bring it up.  Words his therapist spoke to her the previous day replayed in her mind and she remembered about the appointment she’d set up for him.  

“Please, don’t get mad,” she said, and immediately on alert he looked up from his plate and stopped chewing.  “But yesterday when I didn’t know where you were I called your therapist.  I thought you might have gone to see him and…”  He finished his mouthful, and she shrugged, “well, we had a chat.” 

“’bout me?” he asked. 

“He didn’t break any confidences if that’s what you’re worried about but, yeah.  He kind of put my mind at rest, you know.”  Her eyes averted uncertainly. “Anyways, he said to tell you that…well, he wants you to go see him at ten o’clock this morning.” 

Jackson registered a look of surprise.  “What time is it now?” 

She glanced at the oven clock.  “Almost eight.” 

“Okay,” he said, nodding as he turned his attention back to his food.

“He also asked that I come with you.”  He looked up again, and she swallowed.  “Is it okay, Jack, if I come with you?”  She offered him a smile.  “Please?” 

“Okay,” he said after a beat, returning the smile hesitantly. 

“You sure?” 

He gave a nod, then laughed suddenly.  “It’s like when I was back in high school and I did something wrong and the principal asked to see me and my parent, you know?”

She laughed.  “Did the principal asked to see you often?” 

He gave a sheepish shrug.  “A few times.  School was never for me, you know, especially the older I got.  I didn’t really fit in.”  He chuckled mirthlessly.   “After Dad died, Bobby had to do all the teacher/parent shit for him, you know, not that my Dad ever went.   But Bobby?  He did every time.” 

Ally reached for his hand and he took it.  

“He always had my fucking back.” 

“He still does.” 

“Yeah,” he said, glancing at her, the sadness in his tone, in his eyes, giving her pause.  “God knows he was almost old enough to be my Dad too.  God, he _is_ old enough to be my fucking Dad, can you believe it?”  His eyes filled suddenly, and he looked away.  “Sometimes I wish _he’d_ been my fucking Dad.”  He gave his head a dejected shake.  “I never gave him a fucking chance.” 

Ally gave his hand a squeeze.  She was going to say to him that it wasn’t too late, but dropping her hand he stood up abruptly.  Without looking at her, he called for Charlie and headed for the sliding door. 

“Jack?” 

He paused.  “I’m okay.”  He looked at her over his shoulder and forced a small smile.  “I’m okay.  I just need a moment.” 

Understanding that he needed to clear his mind, she gave him a nod. 

“I won’t be long.” 

With a sigh, she watched as he left, only then realising that he was still barefoot and only wearing his boxers and a T-shirt.  Knowing he wouldn’t stray too far, she let him go and set about tidying their breakfast things and cleaning the kitchen.  She was filling the dishwasher when the musty smell of the dirty plates already stacked inside made her gag.  She closed the dishwasher door, but not quickly enough to stop from gagging a second time.  

Her hand rising to her mouth, she ran to the bathroom, just making it in time before she was over the toilet, throwing up her breakfast.  There was movement behind her and then a yelp from Charlie as Jack rushed in and not-so-gently pushed him aside.  Kneeling beside her, Jack gathered up her hair and held it away from her face, stayed there until all she brought up were dry heaves.

“I only came back to get some shoes,” he said, straightening when she did, clearly shaken by the experience.  

“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her hand to her mouth, “These were really nice pancakes.” 

He burst out laughing, touched his finger to her face tenderly.  “I’ll cook you other ones.”  His eyes widened suddenly.  “Shit, do you think I poisoned you?  I mean I feel fine but—” 

A look in his direction silenced him.  “It’s morning sickness, Jack,” she said, getting up off the floor to rinse her mouth.

“Fuck,” he said, his hand coming up to his face as he crawled over to sit against the bathtub, watching her.  “What a stinker.” 

She laughed.  “You, or the sickness?”  Pausing, she washed her hands, then flushed the toilet and after closing the lid wearily sat down on it.  “Jack, I’m terrified,” she said, watching him warily.  “I’m fucking petrified.”  

He motioned for her to come closer, and she dropped down beside him before bringing her knees up to her chest and lacing her arms around them.  With a sigh, he lifted his arm and draped it around her shoulders, tugging her to him. 

“We can do this,” he said in a fraught whisper. 

She swallowed the constriction in her throat and made herself look at him as she spoke.  “I don’t think I can.  I can’t keep this baby, Jack.  I’m sorry.  And it’s not because of you, or your battle with addiction, or because I think you’d make a shit dad—” 

“Then what is it?” 

“Me.”  She pinched her lips to stop them trembling.  “The problem is me, Jack, not you.  I’m the one who’s not coping with the news and I’m sorry I caused you to relapse because of it."  

“You didn’t cause me to relapse,” he said.  “ _I_ did.”

“Still,” she insisted.  “I understand about triggers.  I know how stressful situations affect you.  I should have handled it better.  I just…couldn’t—” 

He closed his arms around her again and pressing a kiss to the top of her head held her to his chest.  “I know you’re scared.  But together we'll manage.”  Pulling back, he sought her eyes.  “From now on, I’m going to…stay sober.  I swear to you, I won’t let you down again.” 

“Oh, Jack.”  She blinked at the tears stinging the back of her eyes.  “It’s not you,” she repeated again.  “It’s me.  I’m scared—”

“It’s normal to be scared,” he cut in, his tone as soft and gentle as the look in his eyes.

Shifting in his arms, she covered his mouth with her hand.  “I’m scared that what happened to my mother when she had me will happen to _me_.” 

Jackson’s brow furrowed in confusion.  “I thought you said your mother left your dad to go live in Missouri.” 

Ally gave a soft nod.  “She did. But she left me too. And she did that because she couldn’t cope with being a mother.” 

His puzzlement intensified.  “I don’t understand.  I thought you said you were ten when she left.” 

“I was.”  She paused, tried to think of the words to make him understand.  “My dad doesn’t talk about it much but I know she suffered from postpartum depression, right from when I was born until she left.  I don’t remember ever seeing my mother happy, Jack.  Not a single time.  I read up about it.  It’s quite common for mothers to feel depressed and emotional after the birth of a child but with her it never got better.  It just got progressively worse until she couldn’t function anymore and she left us—me.  I don’t want that to happen to me.” 

Jack gave a nod then his gaze averting to his lap remained silent and thinking for a long time.   

“Jack?  Talk to me, please.  Say something.” 

Looking up, he gave her a shaky smile. “I love you, Ally,” he said, reaching for her hand. “More than anything in the world.  Whatever you decide is fine by me.  It’s your body, your choice, right?” 

The sadness and resignation in his eyes, in his voice as he spoke broke her heart.  

“I’ll support you all the way.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

When Ally stepped in the kitchen, Jackson sat at the table with his back to her.  His brow was deeply creased as bent over his cell phone he slowly scrolled down the page he was perusing.  He’d put on a pair of black jeans and boots, but had kept the Led Zeppelin T-shirt under his jacket.  She couldn’t help noticing that, just like he’d made the bed and tidied up his dirty clothes, he’d also finished loading the dishwasher and put it on.  His solicitude touched her. 

Smiling, she covered the distance to him.  “You ready?” she asked, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Jesus, Ally!” he cried, startling.  Pushing to his feet, he quickly turned off his cell phone before slipping it in his jacket pocket.  “You ready?”

His furtiveness gave her pause, and she wondered what he had been so engrossed in. 

Reaching up, he gently tucked an errant strand of hair that had escaped from her ponytail behind her ear and gave her a sweet smile.  “How are you feeling?” he then asked, his tone soft and concerned.

“I’m fine.”  She sighed.  “Hungry, I think, but I don’t want to risk it.”

He gave a nod, then walked over to the fruit bowl on the island and picking up the bunch of bananas pulled one off.  “Bananas are good for you.  They’re your friend, Ally.”

She frowned.  “My friend?”

He nodded at her stomach.  “For the sickness? They figure it’s the potassium in them, you know.  I guess it’s the same reason while they help with hangovers.”  He began to peel the banana and before she could argue he handed it to her.  “Just trust me with this, will you?” he went on, as she gingerly reached for it, before tossing the banana peel in the trashcan. 

Unconvinced, she took a cautious bite and then another, and watched with growing puzzlement as he opened cabinets after cabinets until he found the correct one.  “What are you looking for?” 

“I knew we had some!”  Smiling smugly, he straightened up with a packet of Town House crackers in his hand.  “Crackers are good too.  Well, saltines are better, but these’ll do for now.”

She gave her head a shake of disbelief.  “And you just…know all that stuff, do you?”

He tapped his hand to his chest where he’d stowed his cell.  “I looked it up.  And there’s plenty more food we can try.”

She stared at him in astonishment. 

Unaware that his behaviour was giving her pause, he moved to the sliding door and called for Charlie.  When Charlie sauntered in, he slid the door shut, locked it and reached for a doggy treat from the packet on the counter.  “Now, Charlie,” he said, holding out the treat, “You be a good boy until we get back, okay?  We’ll go for a long walk this afternoon.” 

He looked over to Ally for confirmation and smiling she gave a nod before taking another bite of banana.  Understanding that he was being bribed, Charlie took the treat from Jackson to his basket and much to her amazement settled himself there without making a fuss.

“Let’s go,” Jackson said, smiling as indicating the connecting door to the garage he grabbed the packet of crackers, “Or we’re going to be late.”

“You sure you don’t mind that I’m coming?” she asked, as eating the last of the banana she followed him to the garage.  “I mean, I don’t want you to feel like I’m…checking up on you or anything or that I don't trust—”

Turning toward her, Jackson stopped in his tracks.  “Quit worrying, will you?  If it wasn’t a good idea, Dr Cummings wouldn’t have suggested it.” 

She paused.  “You trust him, don’t you?” she stated rather than asked.

He shrugged.  “That’s the first thing we talked about, the very first time we met.  If I don’t trust him, then he can’t help me.  So, yeah, I trust him, and you will too when you meet him.  He’s a straight shooter.”

He planted a kiss on her lips before rushing over to the truck.  He got in, started it up and after he’d pulled out of the garage she locked up.  When she climbed into the passenger side, the packet of crackers was on the seat and her head shaking she picked it up.  So far, the banana was staying down, and maybe the crackers would too.  She buckled up while he set off, checked the expiration date on the packet and laughed. 

“How long ago did you buy these?”

He glanced over.  “I don’t know,” he said, shrugging, “Why?”

“They’re almost a year past the expiration date, Jack.”

Laughing, he grabbed the packet from her hand and tossed it in the gap behind the seat.  "We'll get you some more."

The ride into town was quiet, yet comfortable, and Ally wondered whether Jack would bring up the pregnancy to Dr Cummings.  After their talk in the bathroom, Ally had called the Pregnancy Center, first to get the results of her blood test and confirm the pregnancy, and then to arrange another appointment so she could talk to a doctor about getting an abortion.  They’d made the call together, Ally putting the call on speakerphone and talking while Jackson listened quietly. 

His expression was guarded throughout, downcast even, but she was grateful for his support. She realised now that doing this without his knowledge, without his approval, would have torn her to pieces.  She knew he wished for a different outcome, but this was for the best, she was certain of it.  He needed her help in order to stay sober and a baby would only complicate things, especially if she were to develop her mother’s postpartum depression afterwards.  

She closed her eyes and without realising she was doing so lovingly stroked her hand to her abdomen.  She’d told Jack that she’d never seen her mother happy and that was true.  But she had failed to mention the emotional neglect she had suffered because of her mother’s depression before it was diagnosed as psychosis.  She hadn’t told him about the debilitating effect the cocktail of antidepressant, anti-psychotic and mood stabilising drugs had had on her mother, or about the stays in the psychiatrist hospital where visits from children were not allowed.  How even when her mother had finally got better, she and Ally had never truly bonded.  

“I want to come with you tomorrow,” Jackson said, drawing her back to the moment.

Opening her eyes just as he pulled up in the parking lot adjacent to the therapist’s office, she turned a blank expression toward him.

“You know, the appointment at the clinic tomorrow.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Jack,” she said softly.  “If we go together, we’re bound to get recognised.”

He parked into a spot and cut the engine.  “I just want to be there for you,” he said, turning toward her.

She reached for his hand on the wheel and gave it a squeeze.  “I know you do, and you are.  You supporting me with this means everything.”

He gave a resigned nod.  “You’re going to ask Ramon to go with you?”

She paused.  “I was thinking of going alone actually.”

Dr Cummings was waiting for them when they arrived.  After apologising for their tardiness and introductions were made, Jackson and Ally were shown to his small and cluttered office where they took seats alongside each other on a battered and faded couch that took up most of the space in the room. Not a therapist for the rich and famous then, she figured, not so surprising knowing Jackson.  In his late fifties, the therapist was a short and portly man with kind eyes but a stern mouth.  He wore a checked shirt, which strained slightly over his stomach, no tie, and badly crumpled dark pants.  When he sat down and his pant leg rode up, she noticed he wore odd socks, which made her smile.  She could see why Jackson liked him.

“So, Jack, tell me about yesterday,” Dr Cummings said without preamble. 

Glancing at Ally, Jackson let out a long breath before he sat back into the couch and stretched his legs out in front of him.  “I lost the battle,” he said, shrugging as if it was no big deal.

Dr Cummings gave a nod.  “What strategy did you use in order to stop the cravings?  And if not stop them, then begin to overcome them?”

Ally registered a look of surprise at the therapist’s forthrightness.  She looked over at Jack and reaching for his hand smiled encouragingly.

“None,” Jackson replied.  “I thought—I thought I could stop at one.”

“Jack—” Dr Cummings said and stopped.

“I know,” Jack said, clearly frustrated at his own lack of self-control, and then repeating like a mantra, “An addict cannot stop at one drink.  I know that.  I just…I guess I thought a drink would help calm my nerves.”

“And did it?”

Jack swallowed.  “No.”

“You needed another drink.”

Jack gave a nod.

“And another one.”

Ally bristled at the therapist all-knowing tone.  “Do you, huh, not want to know the reason why Jack felt he needed to drink?” she asked.

“The why isn’t important here, Mrs Maine,” Dr Cummings replied, but not unkindly.  “Addicts will always try to find reasons to justify their actions.”  He gave Ally a smile before turning back to Jack, “Relapse doesn’t mean you’re a failure,” he went on, “or that all the hard work you put in in rehab and afterwards didn’t work.  It just means that the symptoms of your disease have reappeared, and you need to make adjustments.”

Jackson gave a decisive nod and turning to Ally smiled. “I know, and I already have.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.  So, yesterday, you went to a bar?”

Jack nodded.  “And then Ally came.  And my brother.  They took me home.” 

Dr Cummings considered Jackson’s words.  “You know that going to bars and clubs and places where alcohol is readily available is to be avoided at all cost, right?”

“Doc, once the devil’s met you he don’t let you go.”

Dr Cummings laughed.  “You quoting one of your songs at me there, Jack?  ‘Cause it sure sounds like it.”  He sobered up.  “You got to find a way.  You can’t give up.”

“Oh, I know that.  Giving up isn’t an option. It’s just that sometimes giving in is easier.”

“It might be easier at the time, but afterwards?”

His gaze averting, Jack gave a nod.

“What is it that made you call your wife from that bar yesterday?  What was it that made you reach out to her?  Because that’s what you did, didn’t you, Jack?  You reached out to her for help.”

Jack looked over at Ally and smiled softly.  “I realised I couldn’t do it alone.”

“Couldn’t do what, Jack?”

“Stop drinking.”

“You decided that, Jack.  You made that choice.”  The therapist paused to let his words sink in.  “How are you coming along with your relapse-preventing plan?”

Ally sat up straighter.  “With what?”

Dr Cummings turned toward Jack.  “You haven’t told Ally about the plan?  When Ally called yesterday, Jack, she was worried about your state of mind.”

Jackson gave Ally a sad, regretful smile and she squeezed his hand supportively.

“Did you have thoughts of ending your life?”

Jack’s gaze snapped back to the therapist, but Ally kept hers on Jack, closely gauging his reaction.  “No,” Jack said categorically. 

“And yet, you’re still not wearing your belt.”

Jackson’s hand moved to his midriff automatically, and it was clear that even _he_  still didn't fully trust himself and his actions.  “I didn’t,” he insisted before repeating earnestly, “I didn’t.”

Ally exhaled in relief, letting out a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding ever since Jack had walked off the previous day.

“I believe you, Jack,” Dr Cummings said.  

“I had negative thoughts, and cravings you know, but no, I didn’t think of ending my life.  It was only that one time.”

Dr Cumming’s brow rose.  He looked over at Ally, but didn’t otherwise comment, and turning toward Jack she frowned.

“These urges will disappear, Jack,” the therapist then said, refocusing her, “I know it feels like they will never go away, and while it’s truly a frightening thought, it’s unfounded.  Alcohol urges and symptoms do go away, and they decrease every day that you stay sober.”

Jack shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I know.”

“What about controlling the cravings with medication?” Ally asked.  She’d read on the internet about various treatments, but had been too wary of Jack’s reaction to broach the topic with him.  One of the treatments worked by making someone sick when they drank alcohol while another blocked the ‘highs’ associated with drinking.  A third one involved taking a tablet an hour before purposefully drinking alcohol, hence suppressing the urges and cravings for more.

Dr Cummings eased a look at Jackson as he replied, “There is a drug called Campral, which Jack and I have spoken about before.”

“No,” Jack said firmly.

“Campral?” Ally asked hesitantly, her eyes on her husband.

“It’s a type of medication that helps restore the balance of one’s brain's neurotransmitters and ease symptoms of anxiety, insomnia and restlessness, thereby reducing cravings and physical distress, emotional discomfort too.”

“I don’t want to take medication,” Jack said, pushing to his feet to pace.   “I don’t want to take pills—any type of pills.”  Turning to the therapist, he stopped in his tracks.  “We agreed; no pills.”

“We did, Jack,” Dr Cummings said, pacifyingly.

“Do they work?” Ally asked.

“Ally—” Wiping a heavy hand down his face, Jack took a deep breath he let out slowly and turned to look out of the window.

“For some people yes,” the therapist replied.

Her eyes were on her husband as she asked, “Could they…work for Jack?”

“We wouldn’t know until he tried.  The side effects are mild and generally well tolerated.  But they’re not a stand-alone treatment for alcohol addiction.  They just help people maintain alcohol abstinence.”

“Ally, I don’t want to take any pills,” Jackson insisted forcefully, impatiently, turning around.

“Jack—”  She turned back to Dr Cummings. “How many pills are we talking about here?”

“Three time-released tablets a day.”

“As many as that?”

“I said no,” Jackson said, his voice rising.  

“But what if it helps?” she argued, and then once again addressing Dr Cummings, “You said on the phone that substance addiction is a disease like type 1 diabetes.  Jack, if you had diabetes you’d have to take medication in order to stay well.  And you would, without question.  It’s the same here.”

“It’s not the same here, Ally,” Jackson insisted heatedly, his face pained.  “A type 1 diabetic isn’t an addict.   _I_ am.”  He took a couple of calming breaths before adding a little more quietly, “I’ll continue with the diet and the walks and the booze-free beer.  Hell, I’ll even try fucking meditation if you think it’s going to help—”

“Is that why you’ve been going on so many walks?” she asked in a small voice, cutting him short.  “So every time you go…it's because of the cravings?”

Jackson gave a nod without meeting her eyes.

She swallowed.  “I didn’t realise,” she said, addressing Dr Cummings.  “I thought—”  She scoffed, brought her hand to her mouth.  “I don’t know what I thought.”

“The hills are a safe place for Jack, Mrs Maine.”

“Ally.”

Dr Cummings smiled, nodded.  “There’s no temptation there and he can stay however long he needs to in order to overcome the alcohol cravings.  Becoming physically tired helps too.”

“We’re having a pool built,” she said.

“Jack mentioned it.”

She looked at Jack and smiling held out her hand to him.

“Jack, what are your motivations for making a change," Dr Cummings asked, "for wanting to stay sober?”

Taking Ally’s outstretched hand, Jackson resumed his seat.  “You know what it is,” he replied quietly.

“But have you told Ally?”

Jackson paused.  Then he turned toward Ally, met her gaze and shook his head in reply.  

“Would you like to tell her now?”

Jack swallowed, hesitated only briefly before nodding his head.  “I’m doing this because I want to be a better man,” he said with a solemnity that tugged at her heartstrings, “and a better husband to you.”

Ally’s expression softened tenderly. 

“I don’t want to be a fucking embarrassment anymore.”

“Oh, Jack.”

He pinched his lips, and she could tell how difficult he was finding the process.  “I want us to be happy, you know, like happy together in a happy, loving marriage.  More than anything.”

She gave his hand a squeeze.  “We have that already, Jack.”

His eyes misted over.  “And I want us to write music together again.”

Reaching her free hand to stroke his face, she laughed.  “We’ve already started that.”

Smiling, he leaned into her touch and nodded.  He was growing emotional, and again she squeezed his hand to impart strength, courage and confidence.  With a nod, he turned back to Dr Cummings.  “I want to add one more.”

“Be my guest,” the therapist said.

With a hard swallow, Jack turned back to Ally.  “I don’t want to live my life with regrets,” he said, holding her gaze steadily, beseechingly, and she understood that he was talking about the pregnancy.  “Not anymore.”

“Next time you feel the urge, think about all that,” Dr Cummings then said, and grateful for the interruption Ally refocused on him.  The therapist not so discreetly glanced at his watch.  “Jack, there’s an AA meeting tomorrow night at the YMCA centre next to Bay Laurel Elementary School just off the parkway.  7.30.  I’d like you to go to it.”

Jack sighed, and Ally understood that going to AA meetings was a topic the therapist must raise every time. 

“Think about what you just told us, Jack, about living without regrets.”

“I’ll come with you,” Ally said when he remained silent.

Closing his eyes, Jack gave a wry smile.  “You two ganging up on me?” he then asked, his tone resigned rather than angry. 

“Jack, we only want to help you,” she said. _“I_ want to help you. I want to understand what you’re going through, so that I’m not the cause, the trigger for the cravings and more relapses.  I want to be your support network, the safe place you go to rather than run away from.”

Jack stared at her at length before he gave her a soft smile and a nod.

“Which takes me to my next question,” Dr Cummings said, and clearly knowing what was coming Jackson rolled his eyes.  “Have you given any more thought about finding yourself a sponsor?”

As they left the office, Ally thought about Bobby and how he would be perfect in the role of sponsor to Jack, how it could be the way for the two brothers to begin to rebuild their relationship and friendship.  Jack was walking fast and she quickened her step just to keep up with him.  They got back to the truck and set off without a word.  He clearly was lost in his own thoughts, and she hoped nothing she’d said during the session had upset him. 

“How about asking Bobby to be your sponsor?” she asked when she couldn't take anymore of the silence.

Jackson startled, didn’t immediately reply.  “I don’t know.”

“Why not?” she insisted.  “Bobby wants to help you as much as I do.  And you said so yourself; he has your back.”

He flicked his gaze off the road over to her.  “I think sponsors are supposed to be strangers, not family members, and recovering alcoholics, you know, with years of sobriety behind them.” 

Ally pondered that.  “He’s not getting any younger, Jack, and maybe even if he’s not sponsor-material then part of your…rehabilitation should be about…making it up to him, you know?”

Jack’s brow furrowed.  “Did he say something to you?”

She shrugged.  “No, not in so many words, but…I think he’s lonely.  I think he misses you.  I think he misses not having you around.”

Jack laughed.  “Bullshit.”

“No, I mean it, Jack,” she insisted, and his laughter petered out.  “I think, like you, he has regrets about the past.”

Lapsing into a musing silence, Jack gave her a nod, and she hoped she had planted the idea in his mind to at least try.

Frowning suddenly, she took in their surroundings.  “I thought we were going home.”

“I need to get some groceries,” he said.  “Maybe we can grab some lunch too?”

As Jack slowed down to pull into Trader Joe’s car lot, Ally felt her cell vibrate in her purse.  Reaching inside it, she located the cell and noticed a text message from Rez she ignored as she checked the display.

“It’s my Dad,” she said, turning toward Jack.

Jack manoeuvred into a free spot.  “You’re not going to answer it?” he asked, when he saw her hesitate, and cut the engine.  

With a sigh, Ally connected the call.  “Hi Dad.”

“Hello sweetheart.  How are you doing?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Yeah?  And Jack?”

Smiling, she looked over at Jack.  “Jack’s good too.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Listen Dad, we’re at the grocery store.  Can I call you back when I get home?”

“Oh, no, it’s okay.  I just wanted, well, I called because I wanted—Come round for dinner tonight,” he finally said, his tone soft and concerned.  “You and Jackson, I mean.  I’ve got the night off.”

“Oh, Dad, I don’t know.”

Jackson narrowed his eyes at her questioningly, and covering the mouthpiece she brought him up to speed. “It’s okay by me,” he said matter-of-fact.

She registered a look of surprise.  “You sure?”

“Ally?” Lorenzo called.  “Ally, you still there?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “I was thinking of going to see him anyway.  You know, to apologise for yesterday.”

Giving Jack a smile, Ally removed her hand from the mouthpiece.  “Okay, Dad, you’re on.”

“Oh, great,” Lorenzo said.  “I’ll cook lasagne.  6.30 okay with you?”

Jack nudged her arm, and she looked over to him.  “Ask if Ramon can come too.”

“Why don’t you ask Ramon to join us?” Lorenzo asked, on cue, and idly she wondered whether Jackson and her dad were in cahoots.  “Tell him the more, the merrier.”

“Dad, Ramon’ll be working tonight.”

“Maybe not.  Try anyway and let me know.  Okay, sweetheart,” he added before she could reply, “I got to go now.  Love you.”

“I love you t—”  But Lorenzo had already hung up.

Her head shaking, she sent Ramon a quick text before putting her cell away.  “Did you and Dad plan this?”

Jackson frowned.  “Plan what?”

“This meal tonight.”

He shook his head.  “To be honest, after what happened yesterday, I didn’t think he’d ever speak to me again.”

It didn’t take long for Jack to go around the store and find what he needed, adding items after items to their shopping cart.  She knew his new, more nutritious, low-in-fat, high-in-protein diet was key to his healing process and involved eating a lot of fresh produce, but when he added oatmeal, ginger tea, ginger cookies and saltines to the mix the penny finally dropped and she realised he was purposefully shopping for her too.

“Jack—I don’t need all this stuff.”

“Sure you do if it’s going to make you feel better.” 

She almost pointed out that she wouldn’t be pregnant for much longer, but afraid to spoil the good mood thought better of it.  They were in the men’s toiletry aisle when her cell vibrated in her purse.  It was Ramon, and after giving Jack a quick kiss and saying she’ll meet him outside she took the call. 

“Yo, baby girl, you okay?”

His caring tone brought tears to her eyes, and slipping her sunglasses on she moved away from the store entrance to a quiet area.  “I’m good.”

“You sure?”

She smiled.  “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Good, ‘cause I’ve been worried about you.”  There was a pause.  “Okay, so your father wants to cook for us tonight, huh?”

“You’re not working?”

“Well, I am but…”  He coughed a couple of times.  “I feel a cold coming.”

She laughed. “In June?”

“I’ll think of something.”

“Jack wants to…apologise, you know, to you and Dad,” she said when silence stretched on the line.

He sighed.  “Ally, I worry about you.”

Her eyes closed.  “We’ll talk tonight, okay? I got to go.”

After lunch at King’s Fish House nearby, they wound their way back home, and after putting the groceries away took Charlie for a long and deserved walk in the hills.  Jack brought water and snacks, their hat and sunglasses, and she was grateful for his forethought.  He held his hand out to her as they set off through the wooden gate at the bottom of the backyard down the track, and she entwined her fingers through his.  A comfortable silence settled between them as Charlie excitedly led the way, running on ahead and barking at wildlife before circling back to make sure they were still following.  

Smiles lingered on their faces as they strode behind.  She remembered the day she’d brought him home, their little bundle of fluff and joy, like it was yesterday.  She’d figured then that Charlie would be like a child to them, adding to their little family.  She glanced down at her stomach and the child she was carrying inside with a pang of sadness.  Her thoughts took her back to the conversation she’d had with Bobby the previous day and then to Jack’s motivations for wanting to stay sober.  Regret seemed to be the common theme. 

“You okay?” Jack asked softly, squeezing her hand to get her attention.

“Sure,” she lied, flashing a bright smile.  “I was just…miles away.”

He stared at her lovingly.  “I meant what I said, you know, this morning, at Dr Cummings’ office.”

She stopped in her tracks, and slowly he followed suit.  

“Ally, I want us to keep the baby.”


	15. Chapter 15

“Oh, Jack,” Ally said in a sigh, a pained expression on her face.

His shoulders slumped.  “Just—Ally, hear me out please.”

Her gaze averted. “I thought you understood.”

“I do,” he insisted vehemently.  “I do understand where you’re coming from, and I meant it when I said it was your decision.” 

She looked up.  “But?”

“No buts,” he said, holding her eyes meaningfully.  “It is _your_ decision to make and I support you with it.  All the way, but…”  He paused and shrugged, “Well, I know I’d hate myself—I couldn’t live with myself or forgive myself if I didn’t speak up about how I feel.”  His eyes were pleading, his smile a little sad.  “No regrets, right?”

Preparing herself for what was coming, she gave a slow nod. 

“Speaking up and opening up about my feelings – good and bad – is part of my therapy.”

With a sigh, she reached up to caress his face.  “I know it is.  You don’t have to justify yourself.”

He gave a nod, a stiff smile, then glanced down at her taut stomach, just about visible under her crop top.  He reached out his hand to it, his fingers lingering hesitantly close without making contact.  He just lowered his hand again and brought his gaze back up to her face.  He was looking at her with a mixture of fear and sadness, but excitement too. “This baby, Ally, I feel it’s my chance for a new start, you know?  A chance to redeem myself for the mistakes I made and—and show you the kind of man I want to become, the kind of father I know with your help I could be.”

Her face fell.  “Jack—”

He swallowed.  “Just…hear me out, please?” he asked, the words dying on his lips.

Charlie gave a distant bark and both automatically turned toward the sound. 

“I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to change your mind, because I’m not—well, okay, maybe a little,” he went on, laughing uneasily and she turned back toward him, “but well, like I just said, in the end the decision is yours.  I really do mean that.”

Her eyes averting uncomfortably, she gave a nod. 

Crouching, Jackson lowered the knapsack he was carrying off his shoulder before unzipping it and reaching inside for the bottled water.  Uncapping the bottle, he held it up to her and, when she shook her head, took a long swig.  Then he took out an apple he rubbed against his pant leg before offering it to her.  Her head shaking in disbelief, she took it and as she took a first bite he got out a second one for himself.  Slowly, he did the zipper on the knapsack and biting into his apple pushed to his feet.

“Where’s Charlie?” she asked suddenly, frowning.

His brow creasing, Jackson scanned his eyes over the undulating landscape before pointing his apple to a point to their right.  “He’s just over there, over the ridge, sniffing at something – probably dung of some kind.”

Ally pushed up on her tiptoes, but the sneakers she was wearing didn’t give her much height.  He took her hand, and they set off at a leisurely pace in that direction, wordlessly eating their apples.

“I won’t lie,” he said after a while, his hand tightening around hers, and she flicked her gaze over to him. “Fatherhood isn’t something I ever, ever thought about before.  It just was never in the cards for me.”  He paused and shrugged, and nodding she dropped her eyes to the dirt trail in front of them.  “But when you told me yesterday that you were pregnant, my very first thought was, wow, I’m going to be a Daddy.” She looked over to him again.  “That was my instinctive, my immediate reaction to hearing the news.” 

His smile trembled; he took a fraught breath, and she could see how hard he was trying, how tough it was for him to open up this way.  

“The image, the vision that formed in my mind, the vision the fleeting thought conjured up was just…as beautiful as it was unattainable.  Because then, my brain kicked in and with it the…negative thoughts.”  He took another breath and pinching his lips gave his head a shake, and she knew he was fighting to keep his composure.  “And then I thought about my father and the kind of father I’d make and…”  Faltering, he gave his head another desolate shake.

“I told you, Jack,” she insisted, stopping to look at him in the eyes as she spoke.  “This isn’t about you.”

“I get that,” he said, smiling sadly, stopping too. “I do.”  He slipped his hand under his sunglasses and rubbed at his eyes.  “Tell me something,” he then said, refocusing.  “If your mother hadn’t been depressed—”

“She wasn’t just…depressed, Jack.  She had fucking psychosis.  Years of treatments and medication, years of watching her barely functioning.  And both conditions can be hereditary.”

He gave a nod.  “But if she hadn’t been depressed,” he insisted, “Would you want children?”

She stared at him incredulously.  “What?”

“If your mother hadn’t been ill, do you think you’d want children?”

She opened her mouth, only to shut it.  “What kind of question is that?” she asked, growing frustrated by his inability or unwillingness to understand. Turning away, she took a few steps and sat down on a fallen log. 

“Just answer me, please,” he said, lowering the knapsack as he dropped down next to her with a sigh. 

“Why are you doing this?”

Stretching his back, he craned his neck and cast his eye out before giving a sharp whistle to call Charlie back.  “Yes, or no,” he probed relentlessly.  “Deep down, what’s your gut telling you?”

Letting out a long breath, she averted her eyes to the ground and kicked her sneaker to the dry earth.  “I—I don’t know.  I’ve never—”

“Oh, I think you know, Ally,” he went on softly, speaking over her, “Deep down you know.”  She looked over to him with puzzlement, and a smile on his face he sang in a whisper, “ _Family dinners and family trees,_  
_Teaching the kids to say, "Thank you," and, "Please,"_  
_Knowing if we stay together that things will be right.”_

Her gaze lowered once again.  “That’s just a song, Jack.”

“No, it isn’t,” he defended quietly, earnestly.  “Those words, Ally, they were personal and you know it.  They were from you to me.”

With a sigh, she nodded that he was right.  “But then you’ll recall, the line that comes right before that is, “I dream of our story, of our _fairy-tale_.”  She shook her head sadly.  “It’s not real, Jack.”

Folding up a leg over the trunk, he shifted round toward her, then his eyes as soft as the smile on his lips brushed the back of his hand to her cheek very slowly, very tenderly.  “You can make it real, Ally.  _That’s_ in your power.  I think deep down you long for a child.  We both do.  Why else would you have gotten Charlie for us, if it wasn’t so that we could look after him and raise him, nurture him together?”

Right on cue, Charlie appeared from behind a bush, his tongue out and lolling to the side, and she kept her eyes on him as slowly he sauntered over to them.

“I worry that if we go through with the termination we’ll regret it,” Jack went on quietly.

She flicked her gaze up from Charlie and glad her sunglasses hid her tears stared off in the distance. 

He reached for her hand and squeezed it tight.  “I know you’re scared, but I think – no, I fucking _know_ that you’ll make a wonderful mother.”  Her gaze snapped toward him.  “I think our child – any child for that matter – would be lucky to have you as their mother.  You are the kindest, most loving, most generous person I know.”

She sighed.  “But what if I become depressed?” she argued, turning her body toward his as a panting Charlie settled himself at their feet.  “What if like my mother I change and become someone else.  Someone you would not recognise anymore, or be able to love.  What if having a child took away all those things you say you love about me.”

“I’d still love you.”

“Would you?”  She smiled sadly.  “I saw what it did to my Dad.  What if like my mother I can never bring myself to love the child that would have taken away my personality and a life I adore?”

Lifting his hat up to scratch his head, Jackson lowered his gaze uncertainly.  “You don’t know that you would become depressed,” he said after a while pondering her words.  “Not for sure.  No one can know that.”

“I just can’t take the risk, Jack.  A family history of postpartum depression and psychosis increase the odds for me.”

He let out a long breath, then nodded his head that he understood.  “I’m not saying that you’re not right to be scared, or that you wouldn’t want to be careful and be monitored extra closely because of what happened, but—”  He paused, hesitating briefly before he asked, “Do you know what eclampsia is?  Pre-eclampsia?”

Surprised by his change of tack, she frowned.  She’d heard the term before, she was sure she remembered one of the servers at work developing the condition during her first pregnancy, but realising that she didn’t really know what the condition was she shook her head in reply.  

“That’s what my mother died of when she had me.”

Ally’s expression softening, she touched her hand to his face tenderly.  “I’m sorry.”

He gave her a small smile.  “Bobby told me, not my Dad, he didn’t care—or didn’t know.  I remember going to the school library once to look it up.”  He swallowed.  “It’s when a pregnant woman’s blood pressure increases suddenly.  High blood pressure, really, that’s all it is.”  He laughed mirthlessly.  “You’d think nothing of it, right?  But it’s potentially life-threatening if untreated and it causes seizures and other shit I don’t remember.  Anyways, about eight percent of women die giving birth each year because of it.  Here in the States.  Eight fucking percent, can you believe it?  My mother, she didn’t have to die of the condition, if only she’d been monitored and given the right medication.”

Shifting on the log, Ally opened her arms and gave him a hug he returned just as warmly.

“We can’t live our life in fear,” he went on with heartfelt emotion, pulling back from her.  “What if you don’t develop the condition, huh?  And even if you do, I’d be there every step of the way.  I’d watch you like a hawk and make sure you got help as soon as you needed it.  Medicine and treatments have come a long way since the 80’s.  We can afford the best doctors, the best of everything.  History doesn’t have to repeat itself.”

Her eyes filled again.  Turning away, she scrunched them shut, and taking a fraught breath he closed his arms around her.

“All I’m asking,” he went on in a whisper in her ear, “is that you don’t rush into anything you might regret.  Talk to the doctor about it tomorrow.  See what he says.  Take a few days so the decision you make is the right one for you.”

She pulled back from his embrace.  “But what if it’s not the right one for _us_?”

A slow smile forming, Jackson pulled her into his side until her head came resting on his shoulder.  “Whatever decision you make will be the right one for us.  Because ultimately, you – and your wellbeing and happiness – are what matters to me most.”

Ally looked up at him with surprise and, his smile widening lovingly, he closed his arm around her again.  She leaned into him, and they remained sitting on that log in the sun in each other's arms for long minutes until Charlie got up and shook himself and stared at them with an expression that said, “Let’s head back; I’m too hot.”  They had a long drink of water, Charlie too, and as they strolled back home, her mind racing with thoughts and possibilities, they munched on the ginger cookies Jack had brought. 

Back in the house, she headed straight to the bathroom while Jackson saw to Charlie.  She took care of business and as she washed her hands stared at her reflection in the mirror.  Her memories of her mother had faded a long time ago and yet she still saw her in herself.  Giving her head a shake to rid herself of her melancholy, she exited the bathroom and joined Jack in the kitchen.  Immediately, she noticed that her cell was buzzing on the island.  With a sigh, she reached for the device and checked the display.

“You can’t ignore him for ever, you know,” Jack said, holding out a glass of iced tea to her.

Scoffing, she took the glass and brought it to her lips.  “Can’t I?”

Her cell buzzed in her hand.  When he gave her a gently probing look, she sighed, then put the glass down and dialled her voicemail number.  Putting the cell on speaker mode, she played the message Rez had just left. 

 _Stop fucking ignoring me and reply to your email,_ Rez barked angrily, and sharing a look of disbelief they laughed.  _Unless you’d rather I came around?_

Her smile vanished.  “What an asshole,” she said, her head shaking as she deleted the message.  "What a fuck!"

“He’s right though,” Jack went on, before taking a long sip of his non-alcoholic beer.

“Why can’t he just fucking disappear and leave us alone?” she growled in frustration. 

Jackson paused and set his bottle down on the island, then moving behind her put his hands on her shoulders and lightly massaged the tension there.  “Why don’t I…run you a bath?” he said, touching his lips to the back of her head.

Smiling, she turned around and circled her arms around his waist.  “That’d be nice,” she said, pressing the side of her face to his chest.

Jackson took her hand and led her to the bathroom.  While, tiredly, she got undressed, he ran the bath, and smiling she watched as frowning with confusion he added salts and other oils to the running water.  When she stepped in, he disappeared and after a few minutes she heard the first few notes of _Green River_ by Creedence Clearwater Revival playing over the sound system.  She laid her head back and closed her eyes while the hot water began to do its magic and soothe her.

“Sit with me,” she said, when he returned with her drink, which he placed on the side of the tub.

He hesitated briefly, before he did as bid, taking a seat on the closed toilet lid.  For a moment, he seemed to lose himself in thought before he closed his eyes and playing a non-existing guitar began mouthing the words to _Green River_ still playing in the background.  She smiled.

“What a fucking great riff,” he said, laughing as he reopened his eyes when the track ended.  “So simple and yet, so fucking brilliant.”  Lapsing into silence when the next song began, he gave his head a shake. “Bobby and I—we saw him perform this very album in New York City.  Fall of 2011, it was.  It was fucking incredible, Ally, magical.  I wish you’d been there with us to see it.  You’d have loved it.”

Smiling, she closed her eyes.

“The guy’s a fucking genius, just mesmerising to watch…”  And as he described John Fogerty’s electrifying stage presence, she couldn’t help rejoice inside.  It was so heart-warming to hear him talk about music again, to hear him enthuse about another artist and analyse their work and method with such verve and unrestrained passion.  If his mind was active and kept occupied with other things, it would take the edge of his urges and cravings.  Jack scoffed, then stopped talking abruptly, and when still smiling she reopened her eyes he had vanished.

“Jack, you okay?” she called, turning toward the open door, her smile fading with worry.

“Sure,” he called back from next door.  “I just—there’s something I got to do.”

Thinking he’d had an idea for a lyric or a chord and gone to write it down, she closed her eyes again, an instinctive hand lifting to stroke her stomach protectively as she let her mind wander and thought over everything he'd told her during their walk.  When the water grew tepid, she ran a sponge over her body and got out.  She let the bath water out, used a towel to dry herself before slipping on her robe and going to look for Jack.  She checked the living room, the music room and the kitchen.  Charlie lay dozing in a patch of sunlight near the open window and she smiled.

Knowing that if he’d needed to go to his safe place in the hills Charlie would have gone with him, she went to the bedroom to get dressed.  She was looking through her closet when she heard a muffled curse coming from the master bathroom.  The door was open, but not enough that she could see inside.  With a frown, she walked up to it and opened it wider.

“What the hell are you doing?” she exclaimed, her eyes widening in shock.

Jack stood bare-chested at the sink with a hand towel over his shoulder, spreading shaving cream on his beard and moustache.  He’d used one of her stretchy fabric hairbands to keep his hair back from his face, and she stifled a smile.  The clippers on the side and long bushy hairs in the sink told her he’d already more than trimmed his beard, and the razor he picked up that he was about to finish the job.

His eyes flicking over to her, he angled his face to the mirror.  “I’m shaving my beard off, what does it look like?

“But why?”

His eyes returning to his reflection, he raised the razor to his cheek.  “It’s to go with my new image.”

Her puzzlement intensified.  “Your new image?  What do you need a new image for?”

“I’m going to have my hair cut too.”  Pausing, he looked over at her and shrugged.  “Actually, you think you could…I don’t know, cut it for me?  After I’m done with the beard?”

“What?”  She gave her head a shake.  “Jack, I can’t—”

“It’s okay,” he went on, anticipating her refusal.  “You can use the clippers.”

She raised her hand toward him.  “Jack, please, stop for a minute.  Think about what you’re doing.”

He sighed.  “It’s only temporary, Ally,” he said, in a reassuring tone.  “It’ll grow back.  Quicker than you think.”

“But Jack, I like the old image,” she argued in a small pleading voice. “No, that’s not true.  I _love_ the old image.  The old image is _you_.”

He paused, and lowering the razor turned toward her again.  “Maybe I need a new me.  Maybe I need to…not stare at this face for a while, you know?  That’s the face of the old me, the substance abuser.  Maybe staring at a new me will help me stay sober.”  Turning back to the mirror, he inspected his face.  “I think it’s time,” he said finally.

Not convinced his argument was sound, she let out a long breath.  He was right though; his beard would grow back.  And if he believed it would help him, then why not?  When he brought the razor back up to his cheek, she put her hand on his arm to stop him.  “Just…just wait a second.”

Frowning he lowered the razor, and she leaned over for a kiss.  Giggling when she pulled back, she wiped shaving cream off her lips, then motioned for him to wait, not to start until she got back.

“What are you doing?” he asked, following her to the bedroom when after hurrying out of the bathroom she swapped her robe for his Led Zeppelin T-shirt.  “You won’t get me to change my mind, you know.”  He chuckled, adding under his breath, “It’s too fucking late for that.”

“Just hang tight.  I won’t be a minute.”  Rushing to the kitchen, she grabbed one of the dining chairs and carefully carried it back over to him.

“What’s that for?” he asked, laughing.  “I can’t shave with an audience.  It’ll put me off and I’ll cut myself.”

“The chair’s not for me,” she deadpanned. 

When he stared at her with puzzlement, she motioned for him to give her the razor.  His expression softening with understanding, he shook his head but did as bid anyway before obediently sitting down on the chair.   Ally turned around to clear the stubble from the sink.  While she half-filled it with warm water, his hands slid beneath the T-shirt to her hips, uncovering her naked butt, and he let out a quiet chuckle. 

“You’ve changed your mind?” she asked softly, trying to keep a straight face as she looked at him over her shoulder.

A naughty smile twitched at his lips as he brushed a fingertip around the curve of her buttock.  Turning, she leaned against the sink and spread her legs invitingly.  His smile faded.  With a hard swallow, he slowly trailed his eyes from the top of her legs over her stomach and chest and then back up to her face.  His blue eyes, playful a moment ago, had darkened with desire. 

“I know what you’re doing,” he said, his smile returning.  “You’re trying to distract me form the job in hand.”

She bit her bottom lip teasingly, seductively, and the motion drew his gaze down to her mouth.  “Is it working?”

He touched his finger to his cheek and then to her nose, putting a little foam onto its tip.  His eyes holding hers steadily, he placed his hands on her waist and gently pulled her to him until she sat astride his lap.  Smiling as she read his intention, she reached down to the waistband of his jeans, popping the button before easing back so she could pull down the zipper.  Jackson swallowed again, harder this time, and shifted under her until he was comfortable.  

Slipping his hands under her T-shirt, he cupped her breasts and gently rubbed his thumbs over the nipples.  When her breath caught and she closed her eyes, he leaned forward and hungrily brought her right breast to his mouth, licking his tongue around the nipple and over it, sucking and kissing before pulling back and chuckling. Her eyes reopened with surprise, and she laughed too when she noticed that in his ardour he’d transferred most of the shaving foam onto her chest.   He reached past her for the hand towel and still chuckling wiped the foam off her breasts and then off his face. 

His eyes once again sought hers, and she slid her hand under the waistband of his underpants and rested it over his bulge.  His eyes drifted closed as a moan of desire left his parted lips and he sank deeper into the chair.  Her hand closed around him, teasing and caressing, gently tightening and kneading until his breaths, his gasps and moans came more urgently.  His hands moved to her waist again but when he pulled her up and on top of him she froze.  He opened his eyes, a question in them, and she gave him a soft smile and a shake of the head, hoping he’d understand that at that moment in time she didn’t want to do more than to give him pleasure.

Slowly, gingerly, she resumed with her ministrations, and sucking in a breath he closed his eyes again.  She lowered her face to his for a long and languorous kiss he returned with passion.  When shuddering he emptied himself in her hand and she pulled back, he opened his eyes and sat gazing at her with all the love and wonder she hoped he saw reflected back at him.  Whatever decision she made, she knew in her heart of hearts that their love and marriage would prevail.  

When growing uncomfortable under her weight he lifted her off him, she stood up and, while he cleaned himself up with the towel, washed her hands and the sticky, drying cream residue off her face.  Wordlessly, she emptied and refilled the sink with more warm water and picking up the can of shaving cream from the side turned around.

“So?” she asked.  “Are we still doing this?”

Laughing, he stared at her with disbelief.  She stepped forward between his parted legs and spread more cream on his face.  When she felt his eyes track hers, she looked up at them and smiled.  Then she swapped the can for the razor, and he leaned his head back and angling his face up offered her his right cheek.  Her lips pinching in concentration, she brought a shaky razor to it.

“You’ve done this before, right?” he said, pulling back abruptly.

Her brow rose in a question as she met his fearful gaze.  “You trust me, don’t you?”

A grin broke across his face.  “With my life.”

“Then keep still.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and for leaving kudos and comments everyone! Your response to this story blows me away. It’s taken a life of its own, that’s for sure. 
> 
> Share your thoughts please, good and bad, they fuel my inspiration. :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve borrowed more lyrics, again in italics in the text, this time from a song called ‘You say’ by Lauren Daigle. If you’re interested, head over to YouTube and listen to Joshua David’s cover of the song on acoustic guitar. In my head, that’s how Jackson does it, just in a deeper, more gravelly voice. :)

When Ally finally locked up the house, Jackson was already in the truck with the engine running.  Charlie sat on his hind legs next to him, eager to get going.  She climbed in, put her seat belt on, then smoothed down her dress and touched up her hair.  She’d changed outfits three times before finally settling for the same summer dress she’d worn at the barbecue, simply because it fitted around her chest better, and tied her hair up in a loose bun, keeping a few loose strands to frame her face.   Ready, she looked at her two companions and smiled. 

“You look lovely,” Jackson said, returning her smile tenderly as he ran an appreciative eye over her appearance.

Her smile widened pleasurably.  “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Chuckling, he felt his hand down his clean-shaven cheek.  “Yeah?”

She nodded.

“It’s going to take some getting used to, that’s for sure.”

“I like it.”

He grinned.  “Good.  No more beard burn, huh?”

She laughed.  “For a little while.  You got everything?” she then asked.

He gave a nod.  “It’s all in the back.”

Jackson put the truck in gear and they set off.  She kept her eyes on his face as he drove, admiring her handiwork, thinking how much younger, youthful even, his new beardless face made him look.  The skin was a little paler there, almost baby-like in texture and appearance, but she was sure that within a day or two the beard-shaped tan line would have disappeared.  She reached over Charlie and stroked the back of her fingers to his cheek, feeling how smooth it was.  Smiling, he flicked his eyes off the road over to her and winked.

They made it to her father’s just in time for dinner.  Ally knocked on the front door before they went in and found her father and Ramon in the kitchen talking animatedly.  The two men stopped abruptly, their gazes going from her to Jackson standing a little back from her.  The matching lingering looks and raised brows told her they’d noticed Jackson’s new clean-shaven appearance but neither man commented, simply bringing their attention back to her when stepping in she set the packaged dessert she was carrying down onto the worktop.

“Sorry we’re late, Dad,” she said, bussing her father on the cheek before moving over to hug Ramon.

“Ally shaved my beard,” Jackson offered from the door by way of explanation.

Laughing, Lorenzo glanced at Ally.  “She did, did she?”

“She did my hair too,” Jackson said, with a mischievous smile.

“ _She_ is right here,” Ally said, pursing her face in mock-annoyance as she pulled away from Ramon.  “And I only trimmed the ends.”

“What brought on this makeover then?” Lorenzo asked.  “Won’t all your female fans mind?”

Ally and Jackson shared a smile.  “A new look for a fresh start, huh?” he said, redirecting his smile at Lorenzo.  “Listen,” he went on hesitantly, his smile fading as he flicked his eyes over to Ramon and then back to Lorenzo, “About what happened yesterday.”

“It’s okay,” Lorenzo pre-empted.  “We understand.  Don’t we, Ramon?”

“Still,” Jack said, scratching at his beardless cheek.  “I was out of order and I’m sorry.”

“You got the wrong end of the stick.  Shit happens.”

Flashing a stiff smile, Jackson gave a grateful nod.  Ramon crouched down to greet Charlie, and Ally reached into a cabinet for a breakfast bowl she filled with cold water and set down on the floor near the backdoor.

“There’s a cold one in the fridge,” Lorenzo said, nodding toward the six-pack of Bavaria non-alcoholic beer Jackson was still clutching to his chest.  “Help yourself.”

Jackson registered a look of surprise, and Ally smiled at her father, touched by his forethought and kindness. 

“Anyone else?” Jackson asked, putting the six-pack  on the side and moving to take a beer out of the fridge.

“Why not?” Ramon said with an easy shrug while Lorenzo shook his head. 

“Ally?” Jack asked after he’d passed a beer to Ramon.

“I’ll have some sweet tea, thanks.”  Smiling, she picked up the dessert they’d brought off the worktop and passed it to him to put in the fridge. 

Lorenzo had set the table in the dining room, and when he took the lasagne and garlic bread out of the oven they carried that, the mixed salad Lorenzo had prepared earlier and their drinks next door.  Charlie settled himself under the table at their feet, waiting for scraps.  The mood was light and friendly, chatty as they ate, everyone seemingly on form and putting the events of the previous day behind them.  The food was as good as ever and more importantly staying down, and Ally found herself laughing and relaxing. 

Every so often, she’d catch her father watching her closely, or Ramon, and giving Jack’s hand a squeeze under the table she’d smile at them brightly.  No one mentioned the elephant in the room, but she hoped that the happy and united front she and Jack displayed put her father’s and Ramon’s minds at rest.

“Do you miss it?” Lorenzo asked unexpectedly, his eyes on Jackson.

“What?  The beard?” Easing a look at Ally, Jackson lowered his hand from his face and shrugged.  “A little, I guess.”

Lorenzo gave a long, knowing nod, and Ally laughed.  “You’re nodding like you know what he’s talking about!”

“That’s because I do,” Lorenzo defended. 

Ally fixed him with a questioning look.

“I’ve grown a beard before.  All men do at least once in their life.  It’s a man’s rite of passage, Ally.”  Jackson’s head was already bobbing in agreement, and he turned to Ramon for confirmation.  “Oh, alright, maybe not _all_ men but…”

“Hey!” Ramon exclaimed, feigning offence, and they laughed. 

“Another beer, Jackson?” Lorenzo asked, standing when Jackson finished the one he was holding, and froze.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s okay,” Jackson said with an easy smile.  “Don’t worry about it.  And yes, another…beer would be great.”

Lorenzo’s expression relaxed.  “You, Ramon?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Ally?”

“I’ll stick to sweet tea, thanks, Dad.”  Picking up her glass, she stood up too.  “I’ll help.”

“No, that’s okay, sweetie.  You stay here.  Let me look after you for once.”

With a nod, Ally handed her glass over to him and sitting back down tore off a piece of cold garlic bread and brought it to her mouth.  Lorenzo picked up the lasagne dish with his other hand and left the room, Charlie close on his heels.  Knowing that Charlie was in for a treat, she smiled.

“You miss it?” Ramon asked Jackson, refocusing her.

“We’re not talking about the beard anymore, are we?” Jackson said, and Ramon shook his head. “Yeah,” he finally replied, studying the bottle in his hand.  “I miss it.”

Ally gave his hand a squeeze, and he flashed her an uneasy smile.

“Are you going to stick it out this time?” Ramon went on, his tone accusatory and unnecessarily harsh.

“Ramon!” Ally interjected, shocked.

“I don’t know,” Jackson replied, “but I’m sure as hell going to try.”

Ramon gave a nod.  “I mean, you shaved your beard and we’re supposed to—”

“Ramon!” she exclaimed with growing dismay, glancing toward the doorway with worry.  “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

“Ally—” Jackson said, pacifyingly.

“I’m your friend, Ally,” Ramon replied in a loud whisper, “That’s what’s the matter with me. I care about you and I look out for you.  And what I saw yesterday, well, it scared the crap out of me. Not for myself, but for you.”

Jackson put a placating hand on Ally’s arm, stopping short her retort.  “It’s okay,” he told her, “Ramon’s right.” He turned to Ramon and shrugged.  “I scared myself too yesterday, Ramon, and I can only apologise for my actions.  I can’t give you any guarantees that it won’t happen again, or that I won’t relapse, but I can promise you that I will fucking try my hardest.  I’m getting help, okay? Professional help.  And I’m going to start going to AA meetings too.”

When Ally’s eyes snapped to Jackson with surprise, he gave her a soft nod, and she smiled.

“Sorry I took so long,” Lorenzo said, clearly unaware of the undercurrent as he returned with fresh drinks, “I shouldn’t have checked my cell.”

“Problems?” Ally asked her father, keeping her eyes on Ramon, hoping her father’s return had put an end to his questioning.

Lorenzo put the drinks on the table, and Jackson and Ramon wordlessly reached for theirs.  If he noticed that the mood had soured, he didn’t let on.  “Nah.  Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.”  Sitting back down, he chuckled to himself.  “Ally shaving your beard, Jackson, well, it reminded me.”  He laughed again.  “Did either of you know that for a while after high school she…contemplated training as a…what was it called again, sweetheart?”

Picking up her fresh drink, Ally sighed.  “A cosmetologist.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Lorenzo said, still laughing. “A cosmetologist.”

“Isn’t that someone who studies the cosmos?” Ramon asked, frowning as he reached for the penultimate slice of garlic bread.

Jackson and Lorenzo burst out laughing, while Ally rolled her eyes.

“What?” Ramon went on, his gaze flicking between the three in confusion.

“You’re thinking…cosmologist,” Ally said, a fond smile twitching at her lips as she held his gaze. 

Ramon's expression softened.  Laughter bubbled out of him, and just like that they were back on an even keel. With a shake of his head, he bit at his slice of garlic bread and Ally and Jack shared a long look and smile.  Jack put his arm around her shoulders and she moved her chair closer to his so she could snuggle up.  She looked over to her father and smiled at him when she saw him watching.  His eyes lingered on them for a moment before he lowered them to the table, but not before she’d glimpsed worry and sadness there.

“Jack and I are working on some new music,” she then said, hoping to lift the mood again.

“Yeah?” Lorenzo exclaimed, immediately perking up.  

She gave a happy nod.  “For my next album.”

Lorenzo reached to pat her hand on the table.  “Oh, sweetheart, that’s great.  That’s great,” he repeated, his gaze flicking to Jackson, “That’s great news.”

“Can we…get a sneak preview?” Ramon asked with a cheeky smile, causing her father’s face to light up with excitement.

Ally looked at Jack, who shrugged.  “Don’t look at me. It’s your song, not mine.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, coy suddenly, turning back to Ramon.  “I haven’t sung in ages.”

“You sang to me this morning,” Jackson offered, unhelpfully, and she pulled a face at him.

“It’s a work in progress, okay?” she then warned. 

After another moment’s hesitation, she left the table and ran up to her room.  On the floor in the closet, wrapped in an old blanket, she found her battered Casio keyboard. She took it out, put it on the bed and unwrapped it.  When her mother left the family home, Lorenzo used music as a form of therapy for the both of them.  He started singing around the house again, Ally his only audience, and playing his old Sinatra records.  He’d bought Ally a ukulele first, because she was so small, and then a Casio keyboard for her twelfth birthday, which had immediately become her best friend and unknowingly been the making of her. 

She never had any formal training, but she taught herself to play her favourite music tracks, from Sarah McLachlan to Sheryl Crow and Tori Amos and more, and had gone on from there.  These women and their music had seen her through some tough years and now she was one of them.  When she returned to the living room, Jackson was eating the last slice of garlic bread.  Her father and Ramon cleared a space on the table where she placed the keyboard. She plugged it in.  Jackson moved her chair, and looking at him uncertainly she sat down.  She turned the keyboard on, rubbed her hands together nervously, then picked up her glass and took a sip of sweet tea.

“What are you worried about?” Jackson whispered, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly as he leaned into her ear.  “It’s just me, your Dad and Ramon.”

Nodding, she looked up and she smiled.  Both Ramon and her father were watching her with matching grins and eager expression on their faces and she relaxed.  Sure, the song was deeply personal and dealt with a very low point in both hers and Jackson’s lives, but she hoped that the lyrics weren’t so obvious as to reveal the song’s true meaning. 

“It’s called, _One More Light_ ,” she said with a soft smile.  She raised her hands to the keyboard, closed her eyes and let out a deep breath before she began to play the melody she’d performed to Jack that very morning.  She sang the first verse and then the chorus, growing increasingly emotional as the words she sang brought everything home again. She knew the words to the next verse, a verse Jackson hadn’t heard yet, but she made herself stop before she lost her composure completely.

“It’s fucking brilliant, right?” Jack said, his pride unconcealed, stroking his hand to her lap as she played the final note.

“It’s beautiful,” her father agreed, chocked up.

“Damn, girl,” Ramon said, his head shaking in disbelief as he tapped his heart with a closed fist.  “Your voice, your tone, gets me every time.”

“Oh, me too,” Lorenzo said.  “And the lyrics, they aren’t bad either.”

Ally’s heart swelled at the heartfelt praise.  “You think so?”

Lorenzo gave a shy nod.  “I can’t believe how talented you are, Ally.  It just blows my mind.”

“I couldn’t fucking agree more,” Jackson said, draping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her to him for a kiss.

Ally laughed.  “Jack’s agreed to play guitar on it.  We’ve worked on an arrangement already.”

“That’s wonderful,” Lorenzo said, with a look encompassing the both of them.  “Now play the song again so I can film it.”

“Dad!” she exclaimed.  “No.”

“For the guys!”

“No, Dad, this one’s for yours and Ramon’s ears only.”

“And you, Jack?” Ramon asked.  “You working on new music too?”

Jackson paused and looking at Ally nodded his head a little self-consciously.

“Is that the song you played at the barbecue?” Lorenzo asked.

Jack nodded, then his eyes on Ally said, “There’s another one too.”

Ally registered a look of surprise that didn’t go unnoticed by her father.  “Yeah?” she asked softly.

Nodding, Jackson gave her a soft smile.  “I mean, it’s just a beginning, but yeah.”  Gazing down at her with unconcealed love and tenderness, he closed his arm around her shoulders and pressed his lips to her hair.

“Can we hear it?” Ramon asked, breaking the spell.

“I don’t have my guitar,” Jackson said with an uneasy laugh.

“We’ve got a ukulele somewhere,” Lorenzo offered helpfully, “Haven’t we, sweetheart?”

“Dad,” she defended, “a ukulele isn’t the same as a guitar.”

“It’s a little bit the same,” Lorenzo argued, and then addressing Jackson, “Isn’t it?”

“I could try,” Jackson said, cutting short their disagreement, shrugging when Ally turned toward him, “It’s literally one chord played over and over.”

“You played before?” Ramon asked.

“The ukulele?” Jackson said, laughing.  “No.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Lorenzo insisted.  “Maybe you can even join in on the keyboard.”

“Come on, Ally,” Ramon chipped in.  “Don’t be a spoilsport.”

“You sure?” her probing eyes asked Jackson, and then when he smiled and nodded his head in reply, she said, “It’s probably not even tuned.”

“Do you want to hear his song or not?” Lorenzo asked, losing patience.

A wide smile forming, Ally got up and left the room.

“You may want to check the closet in the backroom first,” Lorenzo called, when she was half-way up the stairs. 

The ukulele looked tiny in his big hands.  In fact, it was so small that Jackson ended up hugging the instrument close to his chest.  He tried his chord in one key, then again in the key of F and pursed his lips, seemingly satisfied by the result.  He began picking the same four notes over and over until he was comfortable with the position of his fingers.  The melody was different, and yet its gentleness reminded Ally of _Maybe It’s Time._  She looked over to Ramon and her father who were watching Jack, entranced.

 _“I keep fighting voices in my mind that say I’m not enough,”_ he sang in a whisper, and she refocused on him with a gasp.   
_“Every single lie that tells me I will never measure up._  
_Am I more than just the sum of every high and every low?_  
_Remind me once again just who I am, because I need to know. Oh, Oh...”_

Taking a breath, he looked up and met her gaze dead on and launched into the chorus.

 _“You say I am loved when I can’t feel a thing,_  
_You say I am strong when I think I am weak,_  
_You say I am held when I am falling short,_  
_When I don’t belong, oh you say that I am yours,_  
_And I believe, oh I believe_  
_What you say of me,_  
_I believe.”_

Tears of joy, of love, filled her eyes and, with a shaky smile and a surreptitious look at her father and Ramon, she wiped them away.

_“The only thing that matters now is everything you think of me.  
In you I find my worth, in you I find my identity. Oh, Oh…_

_“You say I am loved when I can’t feel a thing,_  
_You say I am strong when I think I am weak,_  
_You say I am held when I am falling short,_  
_When I don’t belong, oh you say that I am yours,_  
_And I believe, oh I believe_  
_What you say of me,_  
_I believe.”_

“Oh, Jack,” she cried, as soon as he finished, jumping to her feet and taking him in her arms, ukulele and all.  “That was…”  The words failed her and she kissed him.  “Thank you.” 

Closing one arm around her, he leaned his head on her shoulder.  “I love you,” he murmured tearfully.  “And I mean every word.”

She pulled back from him and cupping his face stared deeply into his eyes.  “I know.  I know you do.”  She pushed his hair back and closing her eyes kissed his lips again.

“Music’s a healer,” Lorenzo said, and laughing self-consciously she pulled back.  “Always has been, in this house anyway.”

Ally caught Ramon’s eye and smiled, but when his gaze averted, she sighed.  “So, who’s for dessert?” she asked, standing up abruptly. 

Ramon pushed to his feet.  “I’ll help,” he said, cutting Lorenzo short.  “Least I can do after you cooked such a beautiful meal.”

Lorenzo laughed.  “Get out of here.”

Ramon picked up the pile of dirty plates and cutlery, while Ally reached for the empty salad bowl.  As she followed Ramon out of the room, she caught Jack’s eye, and he nodded his head in reply to her silent question, indicating that he would be fine alone with her father. After a moment’s hesitation, she joined Ramon in the kitchen, finding him at the fridge.  While he got the Banana Cream pie out of the packaging, she found a serving dish for the pie and four dessert plates. 

“That was quite the grilling you gave Jackson before.”

Ramon shrugged.  “Like I said, I worry about you.  You and him tonight, well, I want to believe what I see.  I really do, but I feel it’s all for show.”

“For show?” she exclaimed with disbelief, and checked her tone.  “What you saw next door is not a show, Ramon.  It’s real.”

“Maybe for you, but for him?  I’m not so sure.”

“Well, I _am_ , okay?” Pausing, she tried to curb her rising temper.  “He’s trying.  He really is, but you’ve got to give him a fucking chance.”

Ramon let out a deep breath, then gave her a grudging nod.  “And the baby?” he asked, the words spilling out of him as if he’d been holding them back all evening.  “You going to keep it?”

She sighed.  “Jack and I have talked about it, and…well, like, I don’t know.  I’m going to go see the doctor tomorrow again, talk things over.”

“Jackson’s not going with you?”

She shook her head.  “He wants to, but…I don’t want anyone to recognise us.  He’s harder to conceal than I am.”

“Even beardless?”

Her brow rose as she pondered what he’d just said.  If he wore a ball cap instead of his trademark hat and no beard, would people still recognise him as much? 

“Ally!  What’s taking so long?” her father called from the living room, startling her.  “Come and take a look at this!  You too, Ramon.”

She picked up the plates from the counter.  “We should get back.”

Ramon put his hand on her arm.  “You want me to come with you?  Tomorrow, I mean, for the appointment.”

“No, thank you,” she said, smiling, grateful for his support.  “That’s something I need to do alone.” 

When carrying the plates she stepped back next door, Ally stopped at the threshold dumbfounded.  The keyboard and ukulele were gone and, in their place, sat open the faded photo album of her childhood.  Lorenzo had taken her seat, and a soft, wistful smile adorning his face Jackson watched entranced as slowly Lorenzo turned the pages and pointed at pictures of her while quietly sharing recollections.

“Dad, what are you doing?” she asked in a sigh, stepping into the room.

Smiling, Lorenzo looked up.  “I’m showing Jackson some old photos.” 

Ramon’s ears pricked and after quickly dumping his load he walked around the table and stood behind Jack and Lorenzo to have a look.  Lorenzo pointed at more photographs of her, at various ages and locations and with various family members, and reeled in she moved closer to look too.  She hadn’t seen these photographs in years, decades almost.  None of them showed her mother, and she remembered now that her mother would make a fuss and always refuse to pose for the camera. 

As she stared at her younger self, she didn’t see the sad little girl she remembered but a smiley one with a spark in her eyes.  Briefly, she wondered if it was for the camera’s benefit but she didn’t think that at that age she would have been able to fake her feelings.  Jackson looked over to her.  Their eyes met, and smiling he took her hand and gave it a squeeze, and she knew what he was saying with that one gesture, what he was communicating to her, could feel his strength and confidence starting to leach into her.

Lorenzo finally turned to the last page and there, were a few loose photographs that made Ally’s breath catch in her throat.

“This is Ally’s mother when we met,” Lorenzo said, his voice quiet and sad when he picked up the first one.

His gaze turning to the photograph in Lorenzo’s shaky hand, Jackson leaned forward.  “What’s her name?” he asked, and Ally realised that in all the times she’d mentioned her mother she’d never uttered her name.

“Shirley,” Lorenzo said, and scoffed.  “She hated her name.”

“I didn’t know that,” Ally said, surprised.

Lorenzo looked over at her and shrugged.  “There’s a lot you don’t know about your mother, Ally,” he then said, turning back to the photos in his hands, and she frowned.  “And this one was taken on our wedding day.”

“I thought you’d gotten rid of these,” she told her father in a small voice.

Lorenzo shrugged again, but this time without looking at her, and realising that this must be as hard on him as it was on her she put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“She was very beautiful,” Jackson said, spellbound.

“She was, wasn’t she?” Lorenzo said pensively.  “Thought I’d won the jackpot when she agreed to marry me.”

“Dad—”

Lorenzo gave his head a shake, flashed his daughter a bright smile and winked.  “And I did.  Ally, I did win the jackpot because she gave me you.”

“Dad—” 

“Come on now,” he went on, putting the photographs back and closing the album.  “Enough of this.  Pie time.”

Later that night, long after Jack had returned from his walk with Charlie and they’d gone to bed, Ally tossed and turned unable to get to sleep.  Her appointment with the doctor the next day played on her mind, as did images of her mother and her father’s words.  What was it she didn’t know about her mother, she wondered again?  She knew her father had loved her mother very much, and had been as devastated as she had when her mother had left them, but what was it he’d kept back?

“Jack, you sleeping?”

“No,” he mumbled grumpily, his back to her.  “How can I when you’re tossing around so much?”

Shifting onto her side, she propped herself up and trailed a lazy finger from his neck and down along his spine to his butt under the bed sheet.  Feeling him stir at the touch, she smiled and pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade.  “You serious about going to AA tomorrow?”

Jackson turned over to look at her, and she pulled back.  “Yeah.  I told you.  No more relapses.”  He paused.  “Why?  You don’t believe me?”

“No.  No, I do.  It’s just…” She sighed.  “Tell me something.  Tonight, while we were at my father’s, did you have any…cravings?  Any urges to drink?  Alcohol, I mean.”

Turning onto his back, he folded one arm under his head and stared at the ceiling.  “Yes,” he finally said, “I did.  At the start, you know, but…”  He looked over at her, “I relaxed and we were happy and the cravings stayed away.”

“And now?”

“I’m…happy and relaxed, so no cravings.”  He smiled.  “I had a good time tonight.”

“Me too.”

“Your father—he’s a great man.”  His smile broadened, and he reached his hand to push a strand of hair away from her face.  “He did a great job raising you.”

Her expression turning wistful, she dropped down onto her side with her head on the pillow.  “Do you think we could do a good job too?”

He gave her a solemn nod.  “I think we could.  If my father taught me something is how _not_ to be a father.  But Bobby, well, he tried. He did his best in difficult circumstances.  Your Dad did too, and at the end of the day that’s all we can do.  Our best.”

Ally gave a pondering nod.

“We have two great role models in them, Ally.  And if I can become even half the man they are, well, that would be an achievement in itself.”  


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The DVD’s just come out here in the UK and so I’ve been watching and scrutinising the film again and again and I realise now how many discrepancies there are between the film and this story. Especially as regards the layout of the house. Anyway, I hope it’s not been too distracting. :(
> 
> It’s another very long one! I hope you enjoy.

Ally woke the next day to an empty bed and a queasy stomach.  Pushing up, she found a note on Jack’s pillow, a note and a half-packet of saltines.  A smile forming, she pricked up her ears and scanned her eyes over the darkened room but all was quiet.  Her head shaking in disbelief, she picked up the note and opened it, laughed at how long it was.  _Gone to take Charlie for a walk_ , it said. _You were so peaceful, looked so beautiful as you slept that I didn’t want to wake you.  Will be back before you have to leave.  Eat a saltine, then a banana.  It will quell the nausea._

Her brow rose. _Quell?_   Grinning, she reached for the packet of saltines and took one out.  Munching on it, she checked her cell and found a text message from Rez.  Her smile vanished instantly.  _Fucking call me.  It’s urgent._ With a sigh, she set the cell down, then sitting up in bed finished her saltine before getting up, headed to the bathroom.  In the kitchen, her smile reappeared when she found a banana waiting on the table.  She peeled it and as she took a first bite moved to the patio. 

The warm morning sun felt good on her face and taking a deep breath she closed her eyes and marvelled at the fact that Jack was right, the nausea, if not gone, was better.  Her appointment was at ten, and she went to get ready.  When she finished, Jack and Charlie were still not back.  It was 9.15; he was cutting it fine.  A knock coming from the kitchen startled her.  Frowning, she went to see who it was, finding Bobby waiting at the open sliding door.

“Bobby,” she said, a warm smile on her face.  “Come on in!”

Doing as bid, Bobby stooped to give her cheek an awkward peck.   

“You’re out and about early.”  She scanned her eyes over the yard for signs of Jack and Charlie, but saw none.

“I got to be in Burbank later, so when Jack called asking me to come over…”  He let his words trail, and she frowned.  “I’d have come over anyways.  I got some news for him.”

“Good news, I hope,” she said.

Bobby shrugged, stroked his fingers to his moustache.  “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, looking past her toward the rest of the house.

“Jack’s not here,” she said, when Bobby refocused on her.  “He’s gone to take Charlie for a walk; he should be back soon.”

Bobby nodded, clearly hesitating how much to share.  “I—there’s this gig he said he’d play at next October,” he went on in a sigh.  “The music festival in Austin?”

“He played there last year.”

“That’s right.  He’s played there a few times.  I mean, he’s probably forgotten all about it now, but they called me to confirm and…well, I’m not sure whether to ask him, or just tell them, “Thanks, but not this year.”  I don’t think it’d be a big deal.  I just don’t want to…rock the boat, you know?”

She nodded, then pursed her mouth thoughtfully.  “You want some breakfast?”

“No, thanks.  I’m good.” 

“A drink?”

“Coffee would be nice.  Only if you’re making any.”

She put some coffee on, then checked the time on the wall clock.

“You don’t have to wait with me if you need to be some place,” Bobby said.

“It’s okay.  My appointment’s not until ten.”

He gave a nod.  “Everything okay with you?” 

She paused and, knowing he was asking about the pregnancy, smiled at him.  “Sure,” she replied, reaching for two cups, and paused.  “I think you should ask Jack about doing the gig.”

“You think so?”

“It’s only like a half-hour slot, right?”  And when Bobby nodded, “There won’t be the pressure of a full concert.  He can just turn up and wow them with his fucking magic.”

Bobby gave a wistful smile. 

“Did you know that he started writing again,” she went on, “and it’s good stuff too.  Really beautiful.”

“The song from the barbecue?” Bobby said, pricking his ear.

She nodded.  “There’s another one too.  Really wonderful lyric.”

Bobby’s face lit up with delight.  “Yeah?”

She gave a soft nod, then turned around to finish preparing their coffees, chuckling to herself when images of Jackson trying to make the song and chords work on the ukulele filled her mind.  She’d felt special, she’d felt loved and the centre of his world when he’d sung it to her in front of her father and Ramon.  She took the coffees to the table, and they sat down.  Smiling his thanks, Bobby reached for his cup and lowered his gaze to it pensively.

“I think that if he had a goal,” she said, and Bobby looked up, “Something to work towards, it might give him some…direction, you know?  A sense of purpose.  Knowing people still want to hear him play, and listen to what he has to say, well, that can’t hurt either, right?”

Bobby gave a musing nod.  “And at the end of the day, he can always tell me to fuck off if he doesn’t want to do it.”

“There’s that too,” she said, laughing. 

Lapsing into silence, Bobby took a careful sip of coffee, and she picked up her cup.  One whiff was enough to churn her stomach, and grimacing she stood up to pour the coffee down the sink. 

“So yesterday?” Bobby said, as she poured herself a glass of iced tea. “He was okay?”

Scoffing, she took her glass to the table.  “I don’t know how he does it.  He wakes up and it’s almost like the night before – hell, the day before – never happened.”

“I think he just hides it well.  He’s got years of doing it under his belt.”

His turn of phrase made Ally pause.

“But I’m glad he’s writing again,” Bobby went on, more enthusiastically.  “Music’s always been the one thing that kept his head above water for all these years.”

Movement through the window beyond caught Ally’s eye and she smiled.  Tail beating wildly, Charlie sauntered over to her and she bent down to return his greeting.

“Hey Charlie,” Jack said, stepping into the kitchen, a wide smile on his face, “Look who the cat’s dragged in.”

The corner of Bobby’s mouth curled up in response, but Ally didn’t miss the look in Bobby’s eyes at first seeing his brother, how his face drained of what little colour there was.  Straightening up, she glanced at Jackson to see if he’d noticed, but he was reaching into the fridge for a bottle of water.

“You okay?” Ally asked Bobby, putting a hand on his arm.

“Sure.”  He forced a smile, gave his head a shake.  “Sorry, it’s just that…beardless, he’s the spitting image of our father at that age. Not that he would know.”

Ally’s eyes snapped back to Jackson who was busy changing Charlie’s water.

“You talking about me?” he said, looking round.

“I was just…” Bobby chuckled to cover his lapse, “What’s with the new look, huh?”

Laughing, Jackson felt his hand to his face.  “Ally did it.  You like it?”  After putting Charlie’s water bowl on the floor, he uncapped his bottle and took a long drink.

“Smooth as a baby’s bottom,” Bobby replied, and then with a sharp look at Ally when he realised what he’d just said, “It’s…different, that’s for sure.  I don’t think I can remember a time when you didn’t have a beard.”

Coming over to give Ally a good morning kiss, Jackson laughed again.  “Yeah, well.  It was time for a change.”

“So, it’s permanent?”

“No,” Ally said. “It’s not permanent.  Is it, Jackson?”

Jackson gave an easy shrug.  “Oh, I don’t know.”  He winked at her.  “We’ll see.”

Ally pulled a face at him. 

“You’ve had something to eat?” he then asked her quietly.

Smiling, she nodded her head.

“Kept it down?”

Her smile grew.  “So far.”

He gave a nod.  “Good.” 

She glanced at Bobby who had been watching the exchange with interest.  “So Bobby,” she then said, “you’re staying for lunch?”

Bobby looked over to Jackson uncertainly. 

“Yeah, go on, stay,” Jackson said, smiling warmly. 

“All right,” Bobby said, laughing.  “Sounds like I’m staying for lunch.”

Jackson and Bobby moved to sit on the couch, and taking her iced tea with her Ally left them to go finish getting ready.  In the bedroom, she quickly made the bed, unplugged her cell and grabbed her songbook from under the bed, putting both inside her purse.   As an afterthought, she added the packet of saltines.  Then she put on some sneakers and a ball cap, draped a hoodie around her shoulders and stared at her reflection in the mirror, hoping that her disguise would once again do the trick.  She grabbed the bag of dirty clothes she needed to drop off at the Dry Cleaners, and was in the hallway headed back to the kitchen to say goodbye when pausing in her tracks she pricked up her ears.

“So, you and Ally keeping the baby?”

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Jackson said quietly.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, you know.  It’s just...the timing’s all wrong.”

There was a pause.  

“It’s for the best,” Jackson went on, when Bobby kept silent.  “I mean, it’s for the best, right?  I could never be a good dad to a child.”  He scoffed.  “I’m bound to fuck that up too.  ‘Cause I keep telling Ally that we’d be fine, but there’s this part of me that worries that being a lousy father’s genetic, you know?”

Bobby laughed.  “Like you inherited some faulty gene?”

“More like I inherited a whole bunch of faulty genes,” Jackson retorted sadly.

“That’s fucking bullshit, Jack.”

“How about you?” Jackson went on after a pause.  “You ever thought about becoming a dad?”

Bobby snorted.  “You got to have a wife first, before you get kids, or at least someone you care about enough to want to spend the rest of your days with.  For me the right girl never came, but if she had then I’d have jumped in with both feet.  What you got with Ally, Jack, it’s—it’s…the real deal.  _She’s_ the real deal.” 

“Don’t you think I fucking know that?  I’ve known from the first moment I laid my eyes on her in that drag bar that she was the one, and I still fucked it up.”

"You never said you two met in a drag bar."

Jackson laughed.  "Didn't I?" 

With a sigh, Ally walked back to the bedroom, then she closed the door noisily and retraced her steps back to the kitchen.  “You ready?” Jackson asked, smiling and pushing to his feet when she stepped in.

She nodded, faked a smile.  “I’ll be back by twelve at the latest, okay?” she said, walking over to him and pushing up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the mouth.

Jackson smiled and nodding his head glanced at Bobby.  “I still can come with you, you know.”

Her expression softened.  “I know.  I just—I need to do this alone.”

He touched his hand to her cheek.  “Okay.”  Nodding, he leaned down for another kiss before taking her in his arms.  “I love you.”

Closing her eyes, she returned the hug fiercely. 

As she drove to the clinic and thought things over, she realised why Jack had asked Bobby to come.  He’d reached out to him because he needed to open up about his feelings and insecurities about being a father in ways he couldn’t with her.  She understood then that whatever fears prevented her from keeping the baby stopped him from insisting she kept it.  He’d spoken his mind and told her how he felt, but ultimately he’d resigned himself to the fact that they wouldn’t be keeping the baby.  The thought made her sad.

The small lot was busy when she pulled in, but she found a spot at the back of the building.  She checked in, and had barely sat down when she felt her cell vibrate inside her purse. Thinking it Jack, she retrieved it, only to find Rez’s name flashing on the screen.  Worried that if she continued to ignore him Rez would turn up at the house, she connected the call. 

“Listen, Rez,” she said, talking in a whisper, “Now’s not a good time.  Can I call you back?”

“Can you call me back?” he repeated with disbelief.  “Ally, I’ve been waiting fucking days for you to call me back.”  He sighed and softened his tone. “We got to talk, okay?”

A baby began to cry on her right and she turned away from the sound. 

“Where are you?” he asked with puzzlement.

Her heart sank.  “I’m…at the mall,” she improvised.  She thought about going outside to finish the call, but afraid to miss her turn she remained where she was.  The woman with the crying baby stood up and the crying subsided.

“Okay, well, I got some great news, Ally, which I wanted to share with you in person.  But I guess over the phone will have to do.  Now, listen to this,” he said, pausing for emphasis. “I’ve managed to get you a segment on the Ellen Show.  How fucking great is that?” 

The smugness in his voice riled her, and yet she couldn’t help the wide smile that lit up her face.  “The Ellen Show?” she repeated with disbelief, impressed, stunned.  “Wow.”  She gave a quick look around the waiting room, but no one was paying her attention.

“Yes, wow, indeed,” he said, chuckling.  “You’ll sing first and then chat to Ellen about the album and whatever else she wants to talk about for about ten minutes.”

Ally opened her mouth, only to shut it again, and nodded her head.  She’d sung on Saturday Night Live, but had never actually been interviewed before. It was a daunting prospect, but an exciting one too.

“A week on Monday, Ally,” Rez went on eagerly, “that’s when it all kicks off.  You got ten fucking days to get yourself in shape again and looking tip top.”

“Looking tip top?” she exclaimed with disbelief.

“I’ve got the dance coach and dancers on standby.  You’re going to have to start training again—”

She rubbed her hand to her forehead wearily.  “No dancers, Rez.  I don’t—”

“Ally, don’t fucking start that again,” he cut in, exasperated now.  “It’s Ellen for crying out loud.  She broadcasts all over the fucking world!”

“Allison?” a female voice called.  “Allison Campana?”

Startling, Ally gathered her purse and pushed to her feet.  “That’s me,” she called quietly, covering the handset.  “Listen Rez, I got to go.  I—I’ll call you.”  And with that, she hung up.

“Nice to see you again,” Dr Stanislas said, smiling from behind her desk when Ally went in.

Nodding wanly, Ally took a seat when the doctor told her to and clutched her purse to herself in her lap. 

“How are you?”

“I’m okay, aside from the nausea.”

Dr Stanislas nodded.  “That’s absolutely normal.  It’s the result of increased hormones in your body, but it should ease off by the end of the first trimester.  It’s generally a good sign that the pregnancy is progressing as it should, believe it or not, that the placenta is developing well.  Any actual sickness?”

“A little, but…”  She was about to say ‘my husband’ when she caught herself. 

“You’ll find that eating saltines help,” the doctor said, stealing the words out of her mouth. "Crackers, bread and protein foods do too."  She consulted her notes.  “It’s still a little early for an internal examination to show anything, so we’ll keep that for next time if it’s okay.”

“Sure.”

Dr Stanislas paused, regarded Ally thoughtfully.  “I understand from talking with you last time that this pregnancy wasn’t planned?”

Looking up with a start, Ally shook her head.

“It’s normal to feel…shocked at first, you know, apprehensive and unsure.  Overwhelmed.  Becoming a parent is a daunting prospect, even in the best of times.  But hopefully now you’ve had a little time to get used to the idea.”

“I’m still…”  Ally shrugged, “Debating my options, you know.”

“Oh, okay.  Well, that’s understandable.” 

Dr Stanislas flashed a quick smile before her eyes lowered to Ally’s hands on her lap, and when Ally glanced down she realised she’d forgotten to take off her wedding ring.  Discreetly, she slipped her hand under her purse. 

“Does your husband know you’re here?”

Ally gave a slow nod.  “He wanted to come with me,” she said, coming to his defence, “but I…didn’t want him to.”

“Okay,” Dr Stanislas said, soothingly, and paused, visibly waiting for Ally to continue.  “Does he…not want the baby?” she then probed hesitantly.  “Is that what the issue is?”

“No,” Ally said, her head shaking.

“He’s not pressurising you?”

“No,” she repeated more forcefully.  “Not at all.”  She smiled sadly.  “He’s being real supportive.”  Tears built, prickling at the back of her eyes.  “The issue is with me,” she went on, in a choked up voice.  “Jack, well, he wants us to have the baby.”

“Okay.”  Dr Stanislas gave Ally an encouraging smile.  “So, are you worried about your age, is that it?  Because a first pregnancy at thirty-two is nothing to worry about.  I mean, yes, risks are increased, but only marginally.  We offer excellent prenatal care, here, at the clinic.  You and the baby will be monitored every step of the way.” 

Smiling, she nodded her head.  “There’s just so much I need to…wrap my head around, you know?”

“I’ve put together an information pack for you.  Leaflets to read that explain what happens when.”  Pausing, Dr Stanislas watched Ally closely.  “If you don’t talk to me, then I can’t help you.”

Ally nodded.  Then she covered her face with her hands and removed her ball cap.  If the doctor recognised who she was, she didn’t let on, and at that moment in time Ally didn’t care.  She opened her mouth to explain, but no words came.  “I’m sorry,” she said, wiping at the lone tear that fell from the corner of her eye before squeezing her eyes shut when more tears fell.  She heard movement, then felt a gentle hand pat her shoulder comfortingly as the doctor sat down next to her on the second visitors’ chair.

“And it’s also absolutely normal for your hormones to be causing havoc with your emotions,” the doctor said in a soft voice.

Ally looked up, and smiling the doctor held out a box of Kleenex.  Ally pulled a couple out and wiped at her eyes.

“Mrs Campana, I’m here to help,” the doctor said, leaning forward to catch Ally’s eye.  “I’m not here to judge.  My job right now is to give you all the advice you need to make an informed choice.  But ultimately that choice is yours, and yours alone.  You are in control.”

Ally nodded, mustered a grateful smile.  “Thank you.”

Dr Stanislas sat back.  “So, you want to tell me what this is all about?”

Ally swallowed, then nodded her head.  “My mother left me and my father when I was ten,” she said hesitantly, and licked her dry lips.  “After—after I was born, she suffered from postpartum depression that was later diagnosed as postpartum psychosis.  Like, real bad, I mean she was given medication, had several stays in the psychiatrist hospital, you know?”

Dr Stanislas gave a quiet nod.  “And you’re worried it’ll happen to you.”

“Well, yeah.  I mean, like, my dad won’t talk about it, but I read up about it on the internet and it said that mental illnesses like that can be hereditary, that my mother’s history of postpartum psychosis increases the chances for me.”

“While that’s true, it’s not always the case.”

Ally sighed.  “I don’t think I can take the risk.”

“Have you had mental health problems in the past?”

“No. Never.”

“Did—did your mother have mental health problems prior to having you?”

Ally frowned. Her mouth opened only to shut again, and she shrugged.  “Well, that’s the thing.  I—I don’t know.  All I know is what I remember and how she was when I was growing up.”  Tears formed again.  “I don’t want to put my child through what I went through.  I couldn’t—I couldn’t do that to a child, or to myself and my husband,” she added in a breathless whisper.

“I understand.  Postpartum mood disorders, as they’re now labelled, are much better understood these days. There was limited education on maternal mental health thirty years ago, limited treatment options too.  Now we know better and we’re starting to do a better job of identifying and treating PPMDs.  Doctors now realise that the disorders not only affect the mother, but also the child.  As clearly they affected you.  Your fears are valid ones, and you mustn’t ignore them.  Seeking help early is key here, and you’re right to be asking yourself those questions.”

The doctor paused to let her words sink, and Ally sat up, her relief at being told that she wasn’t being silly and her fears weren’t unfounded overwhelming. 

“But to suggest that these conditions are _inherited_ ,” Dr Stanislas went on, “that your mother’s history of mental health struggles could have been passed down to you, well, it’s not as simple as that.  Your mother’s PPMD had a lasting effect on you, understandably so, which in turn might trigger similar symptoms of depression and anxieties in yourself when you become a mother.  She is, after all, your only maternal role model. The question, and professional opinion is divided on that, remains: is PPMD inherited, or is it simply repeated – replicated even, consciously or not – by you, the child, because of deep-rooted fears.” 

Ally’s gaze narrowed as she tried to process the doctor’s words. She thought of Jack then and of his conversation with Bobby, of his fears that his inability to stay sober, his perceived inadequacy as a man and husband, as a father too, could be genetic. She didn't believe that to be true any more than Bobby did. Could it be the same for her? 

“Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Ally gave a soft nod.  “I think so.”

Dr Stanislas paused.  “What’s your relationship like with your father?”

Ally brightened up.  “It’s great.  He’s great.”

“Then speak to him.  Tell him about your fears.  Find a way for him to open up so you can find out a little more about your mother.  It’ll be painful, for the both of you, but I think in the long run it could be very therapeutic.  Only then can you make an informed choice about how best to proceed with the pregnancy.”

As she left the doctor’s office, Ally’s mind raced with the doctor’s words.  Automatically she slipped her ball cap and sunglasses on, took her cell out of her purse and stepping out into the bright sunshine called her father’s number.  As it rang, she walked around to the back of the building where she’d parked the truck.  “Dad?” she said, as soon as he picked up.  “We need to talk.”

There was a pause and a long sigh before her father spoke. “I thought you might say that.”

She unlocked the truck and slipped behind the wheel.  “You home now? Can I drop by?”  It was hot in the cab, and taking her cap off she turned the key in the ignition to activate the air conditioning.

“I’m in south LA on a job,” her father said.  “I’ll be there all day.  Can it wait until I get home tonight?”

“Sure,” she replied, badly hiding her frustration.  “Oh, wait!  I can’t do tonight.  I told Jack I’d go to AA with him.  How about tomorrow I treat you out to lunch?  Just you and me, some place quiet.”

“Okay. That'd be nice. Sorry, sweetie, but I got to go.  We’ll speak tomorrow, I promise.”

As soon as she hung up, her cell vibrated in her hand with a new text message.  Thinking it from Rez, she clicked on the icon then smiled on seeing that the text was from Jackson.  _Turn around,_ it said, and frowning she did as bid.  Jack stood there, a hesitant smile on his face as he lifted his hand in a small wave.  Frowning, she watched as talking he walked around to the passenger side.  He bent down, then reached up to open the door and a panting Charlie climbed in.

“What the hell?” she said, laughing when Charlie began licking at her face.  “How did you get here?”

“Bobby gave us a ride.”  After tossing Charlie’s lead on the dashboard and the backpack he was carrying into the footwell, Jackson picked up her purse from the seat and got in.

“What about lunch?”

He patted his hand to the backpack, took his cap off and directed the air conditioner blast toward his face.  “I made us a picnic.  Thought we could go to the park to eat it.”

“The park?”

“Yeah.  Why not?”  A wide smile on his lips, Jack leaned across over Charlie for a kiss she was more than happy to return.

“How did you know where to find me?” she asked, giggling.

His shoulder lifted in a shrug.  “Ramon,” they said in unison.

“I called him,” he went on, and scoffed.  “I had to bribe him.”

“You did _not_!”

“No, but he fucking made it hard for me, let me tell you.  That kid’s like a dog with a bone as far as you’re concerned.”

She pinched her lips to stifle her smile at his analogy. 

“Anyhow, I got it out of him – eventually.”  He shrugged again.  “Bobby and I…well, we were talking and he said some things that made me realise I should have gone with you.  I should have insisted, Ally.  You shouldn’t have to do any of this on your own.”

Her face softened.

“So here I am now,” he added, brightening up.   She smiled, and he reached for her hand, which he studied at length, before looking back up and saying, “I almost went in, you know?”  He nodded toward the building.  “But I had Charlie and I worried someone’d recognise me and—”

“It’s okay.  You’re here now.”

His eyes averting to his lap, he gave a nod. 

“The doc was real nice,” she offered.  “We talked and she explained about depression and stuff.  She gave me some leaflets to read. I—I’m meeting my father tomorrow for lunch and I’ll ask him about my mother.”

The look, a mixture of relief, joy and hope, that flashed across his face tugged at her heart. “Is that who you were talking to?” he asked, “Before, on the phone?”

“Yeah. So,” she then said, changing tack as she ruffled Charlie’s ears, “you got a park in mind?”

Jackson cast a look around their surroundings.  “I don't have a fucking clue where we are.”

Laughing, she turned toward the wheel and put on her seat belt.  “Bobby said you asked him to come today,” she said, concentrating as she joined the freeway headed west, “that you wanted to talk to him?”

“I thought about what you said, you know, about him having regrets too.  So, I—I…” She looked over to him and he shrugged, “I thought that maybe we could, you know, go on a camping trip together.  Point Mugu maybe, like in the good old days.”

Her face lit up with surprise.  “And what did Bobby have to say about that?”

“Not a lot for a long time.  But turns out that Willie’s taking a few days off the tour in a couple of weeks, so we thought we’d go then, if it’s okay with you.”

“Sure.”  Her smile widened pleasurably.  “Sure it’s fine with me.  But camping?  Aren’t you a little—”

“Old?” he provided when she faltered, and she laughed.  “I looked it up, the old campsite we used to stay at is still there, but they have some wooden cabins now too, you know.  With hot showers and beds and whatnots.  Not like it was before.  Besides, it’s only for a couple of days.”

She got off the freeway, taking a left turn onto Van Nuys Boulevard, following the signs to the recreation park there.  It dawned on her then that in a couple of weeks, her hiatus would be over and she’d be back promoting her next single. 

“Rez called again.”

He scoffed.  “You picked up?”

Flicking her eyes off the road, she nodded her head.  “I'm going to be on the Ellen Show,” she said, gauging his reaction. 

His smile faltered briefly.  “That’s great.  That’s fucking great, Ally.  Ellen’s real nice.”

“You know her?” she asked with surprise.

“Well, not really.  I mean, we met at a few events.  I went on her show once too.”

“You did?”

“Must be over ten years ago now.”  His smile returning, he reached across and patted her leg warmly.  “I’m really happy for you.”

“You are?”

His face softened lovingly.  “Sure I am.  It’s a great opportunity.” 

She took a right turn into the parking lot adjacent to the park, found a spot and cut the engine.  “Hey, maybe you could come with me!”

“Oh, I’m sure Rez would love that.”

“Rez isn’t the boss of me.”

“Good.  Don't let him fucking forget it.”

"Oh, I won't.  First off, no dancers."  She touched her hair.  "And then I'm going to grow the red out and go back to my natural colour."

A grin broke across his face.  "That's my girl."

“And three, you’re coming with me.”

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m borrowing another song, this time Lady Gaga’s 'The Cure'. Can we pretend that the song, as sung and arranged by Lady Gaga, was included in Ally’s first album, the one she promotes in the movie? To me, it sounds like the song should have been in the movie anyway. It’s got the same pop vibe as Ally’s other tunes. If you’re interested in listening to the slower, piano version Ally does in this chapter, then listen to Sam Tsui’s cover of the song on YouTube. That’s how I imagine Ally doing it here.

Ally woke with a tremendous sense of well-being.  Every muscle was relaxed, every limb heavy with sleep.  For a while, she lay utterly still in her warm cocoon, letting consciousness seep back, incapable of even the minor muscular effort of raising her eyelids.  A golden light, the morning sun streaking in through the edges of the curtains danced at the rim of her closed eyes.  Shifting behind her, Jack pressed his lips to her bare shoulder, and a lazy smile tugging at her lips she snuggled deeper into his embrace.  She wasn’t ready to face the world just yet.

After lunch the previous day at the park, they’d gone home and spent a lazy afternoon there, Ally doing chores while Jack shut himself in the music room with his electric guitar.  He’d plugged it into the amp, keeping the sound low, and she’d listen for a while through the door as he’d played riffs from a few of his favourite songs before moving on to his own stuff and eventually to music she hadn’t heard before.  It was good to hear him play again, like this, unprompted. 

It had been hard but she’d refrained from joining him lest she broke the spell, opting instead to give him the space he needed to allow his creative juices to start flowing again.  She wondered then if Bobby had mentioned to him the music festival in Austin and if so whether he was thinking of playing there.  Jack hadn’t said anything to her about it, and afraid he’d feel pressured she didn’t mention it either.  She hoped he was seriously considering the idea though. 

It would be the perfect platform to relaunch his career, well, not relaunch as such, more like put the events of the past year or so behind him and start afresh.  Just a little over three months gave him plenty of time to get prepared, musically but mentally too.  It gave him time to work on his new music, maybe even get back to the studio to record, before he’d showcase his new songs there.  At six pm, she knocked on the door and popped her head in, finding him just sitting there on the couch deep in thought. 

“Dinner’s ready,” she told him with a smile.  “I made pasta carbonara.  I hope you’re hungry.”

Smiling at her lovingly, he held out his hand and taking it she moved to sit on his lap, straddling him.  He put his hands on her hips to steady her and she watched as closing his eyes he let out a long breath and rested his head against her chest.

“Baby, you okay?” she asked softly, worriedly, threading her fingers through his hair.

“Sure,” he replied.

“You having second thoughts about going to the meeting?”

“The meeting?” he repeated, pulling back with a frown.

“AA.  Tonight.”

“Oh.  No.”  He gave his head a shake and her a soft smile and with another sigh went on to tell her about his conversation with Bobby and the music festival in Austin.  “So what do you think?” he then asked, “Do you think I should do it?”

She gave him an emphatic nod.  “Definitely.”

His head bobbed musingly as once again he lapsed into silence. 

“You don’t?” she then asked with surprise.

He shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I mean, right now, here at home with you, I’m in a good place but—” He sighed.  “I’m—I’m not _there_ yet.”

She touched her hand to his face tenderly.  “Maybe not, but you will be by then.”

The AA meeting was a quiet affair, with only a handful of people present.  Jack had no qualms introducing himself when prompted, and no one let on if they recognised him.  He didn’t say much more after that, but he listened to others intently, nodded vigorously too, as they talked and shared their stories and hardships about what drink did to their lives and personalities, what actions they took to deal with it, and how they were living their lives today. 

The meeting wasn’t as drab and dispiriting as she had imagined, but rather comforting and uplifting, and Jack said he would go again.  Quiet and subdued afterwards, he took Charlie for a walk as soon as they got home. She worried his demons were rearing their heads again, but trusting in his ability to put them to sleep she let him go.  Exhausted herself, she'd got ready for bed and fallen asleep before they’d got back.

And now as she lay in bed in his arms, she let out a contented breath.  She was happy, _they_ were happy, and for a moment as she thought of the growing life inside her she allowed herself to believe that they could have it all.  Jack tightened his hold on her from behind, until his body fit snugly against hers with his erection nestled against her ass and his arm draped possessively over her stomach.  His lips brushed against her shoulder again, once, twice and then a third time.  She repressed a shiver, but didn’t otherwise move. 

“I know you’re awake,” he said, his voice a low gravelly rumble against her neck.

“Am I?” she countered teasingly.

She felt his smile widen against her skin as taking up the challenge he slipped his hand under the waistband of her shorts.  Her body stirred, rekindled, awakened by that one touch, and she smiled and repressed another shiver all at once.  He removed his hand from her shorts, then hooked a finger under the strap of her camisole and gently lowered it down her shoulder and arm, exposing the soft curve of her breast.  Her smile broadening, she opened her eyes and slowly turned onto her back, offering herself up to him. 

The unreserved love and devotion in his eyes as he gazed down at her made her heart swell.  He brushed her hair away from her face and moving on top of her took her lips in a kiss more searing, it seemed, than ever before.  Her mouth opened, her tongue darting out to touch his as she returned the kiss with all the fervour she possessed. Her hands moved to his shoulders, in turn gripping and pulling, stroking and kneading, while his hand slid between their bodies down over her stomach to her parted legs under her shorts, brushing up and down the length of her inner thighs, skimming tantalisingly close to her warm core.

He broke the kiss and breathing hard took a moment to watch her in the dim light.  Smiling as she stared deep into his eyes, she reached down and pulled her shorts down her legs.  As she kicked them off, she moved to his shorts, freeing his erection as she pulled them down to his knees.   A moan escaping, he lowered his mouth to her chin, trailing a path to her throat and sternum, pulling her camisole down with his mouth so he could get to her breasts while his hand once again took a downward path and his fingers teased ever closer but never quite making it to where she wanted them most.

"Jack, please," she heard herself gasp, more than ready for him, and when he looked up, "Please."

He gave her a soft smile, and she closed her eyes and arched up her body and it was her turn to let out a low moan when he slid two fingers inside her. She felt herself tighten around them, and he paused, waiting until she'd relaxed again to move inside her with familiar ease.  As her orgasm built, and very quickly at that, she stretched her hand to stroke him, pleasure him as he was pleasuring her, but he pulled back and when she opened her eyes in surprise he shook his head no, not yet, that for now this was about her, not him.

Ally dropped her hand and let herself go. Her moans and groans came louder and louder, building in intensity, a perfect echo of her growing pleasure. On the very edge, she opened her eyes to look at him, only to close them again as finally her body tightened and convulsed with sheer abandon **.** When she reopened her eyes, he was smiling lovingly down at her. She lifted her hands to his face and, sitting up, kissed him softly on the mouth.

Without breaking the kiss, she wrapped her legs around his waist and easily guided him inside her with her hand, causing him to groan into her mouth. Pausing, he pulled back from the kiss, took her by the wrists and gently held her hands above her head while he began to move inside her, thrusting slow and deep at first, before gradually gaining in speed and intensity until he stopped and she felt him shudder and shake and tremble between her legs.

Laughing, he collapsed on top of her, then pushing up on his forearms, planted a kiss on her mouth and rolled off her.  For a while, as they caught their breath, they just lay there, spent and sated and content to bask in the afterglow, atop the crumpled bed sheet.

“Works as well for the queasiness as a saltine does,” Ally said with a satisfied sigh, turning toward him.

“What does?” he asked with puzzlement.

She rolled onto her side against him.  “Sex with you,” she whispered in his ear, a smile pulling at her lips. 

His laughter echoed around the room. “Maybe I should market it as a healthier, cheaper alternative.  I’m sure women all over the world would bite my hand off for the privilege.  As a matter of fact, I'm pretty fucking sure they'd bite more than just my hand!”

“Jackson!”

He winked at her teasingly and she play-punched him in the arm.  Laughing even harder, he shifted onto his side before sitting up and pushing onto his knees as he gathered her body in his arms.  Making to stand up on the bed, he lifted her up and silenced her squeal of surprise with a long and languorous kiss.  As she linked her hands behind his head, the mattress dipped and he took an unsteady step forward.  

"Put me down," she cried out, laughing as losing his balance he dropped down onto his knees on the mattress. 

He steadied her in his arms, and their laughter fading they stared at each other tenderly, lovingly for long seconds.  A quiet whine, then a whimper, coming from behind the door broke the spell and they turned toward it.

“What happened to Charlie?” she asked, frowning with confusion.

After gently lowering her back onto the mattress, Jack gave a shrug.  “I may have…shut him out of the room, earlier when I got up to pee.”

She laughed.  “You _planned_ this?”

“No.”  A smile twitching at his lips, he got off the bed.  “Maybe?”

Charlie called again and Jack went to open the door. 

“Then _maybe_ next time,” she said, with a very deliberate waggle of her brow, “we should…make the most of the new beard-free you.”

“And there I was thinking I might not shave today.”

Ally threw a pillow at him, missing by a mile, and laughing Jack opened the door.  Charlie sauntered in, and without paying either of them the least bit of attention jumped onto the bed and curled himself up in a corner at the foot, as far away from them it seemed.  

“Charlie?” Ally called softly, sitting up.  "Charlie, come here, boy."

Charlie’s ears twitched, but he didn’t otherwise respond. 

“Do you think he’s pissed at us?” she asked Jack, giggling.

“Nah.  He’s just playing hard to get.  Aren’t you, pal?” 

Jack reached over to the end of the bed and stroked Charlie, who immediately rolled onto his back, offering his belly. 

“Told you,” Jack said, glancing toward Ally before grabbing one of Charlie’s paw and gently tugging him over to pick him up in his arms.  

Giving the pooch a cuddle, Jack got into bed again and lowered him to their laps so they could make a fuss of him.  They shared a look and a smile, and she could see in his eyes what he was thinking.  That instead of Charlie, it could be a little boy, or a little girl, they could be making a fuss of.  She was thinking the same.

“Come on,” he said, snatching his shorts from under the bed sheet, “let’s go grab some breakfast.  I thought we could try oatmeal today, see how you like it.”

She pulled a face.  “I don’t like oatmeal.”

He got off the bed, Charlie immediately following suit, and put his shorts on.  “That’s because you’ve never tasted mine.”

When after a bathroom stop she made her way to the kitchen, Jackson was at the stove stirring oats into warm milk with Charlie sitting on his hind legs, watching with interest.  Her nose twitching at the smell of coffee, she kissed the back of Jack’s shoulder, then moved to the fridge and poured herself a glass of iced tea she took to the patio.  Jack joined her there with two steaming bowls of oatmeal and a banana, and then returned with a knife and spoons and his cup of coffee.  He sat down at the table and, after peeling the banana, began slicing it up, putting half in her bowl and half in his.

“So,” he asked, nodding toward her bowl when she’d eaten a few mouthfuls.

She smiled.  “It’s good.”

“Told you.  So,” he went on brightly, “What time are you meeting your Dad?”

Folding a leg up on the chair, she brought another spoonful to her mouth.  “We’re meeting at Duke’s at 11.30.  He’s got a job at two, so...”  Shrugging, she let her words trail.

Smiling warmly, Jack reached for her hand holding the spoon and gave it an encouraging squeeze.  “It’s going to be okay.” 

“I know.  I just…”  She shrugged again, “I just don’t know what to expect, you know?  I thought I knew all I needed to know about my mother but turns out, there’s a whole other truth out there.”

“You don’t know that,” he said softly. 

Again her shoulder lifted, and he returned his attention to his oatmeal. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he went on, his mouth full, “maybe we could…try to track her down, you know?  See how she’s doing now.”

Spoon halfway up to her mouth, Ally paused.  “No. No.  I—I…don’t want that.”

“Why not?  Maybe talking to her will help you understand.”

“No. I—if she wanted me to know where she was she’d have told me.  It’s not like we moved house or anything.”  She gave her head a shake.  “I’ll speak to my father.” 

“Okay,” Jackson said softly.  “It was just an idea.  A dumb one by all account.”

Mustering a smile, Ally nodded her head.  She tried another spoonful of oatmeal, but the lump in her throat made swallowing it hard.  She put her spoon in her bowl, then picking up the bowl and her empty glass pushed to her feet and made her way indoors.

“Ally,” Jack called, and she turned in the doorway.

He winked at her, and she smiled despite herself.  Standing, Jack walked up to her, then took her bowl and glass out of her hands.  “You go and get ready,” he said, “I’ll clean up here.”

“No, it’s okay.”  She nodded at Charlie waiting by the door.  “Go take him for a walk.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Jack pecked her lips before he went to get dressed.  Ally checked the time, it was barely eight am, then set about tidying the kitchen.  She was careful as she opened the dishwasher, but it was empty and she was fine.  She was hand washing the pan when Jack returned, Charlie on his heels.  Bare chested, he was wearing grey workout shorts, white tennis socks pulled all the way up his calves and a backwards ball cap on his head. 

“What’s this?” she asked, badly suppressing her amusement.  “Part of your new look?”

He shrugged.  “That guy last night?  The one sober ten years?  He said turning to sports helped him.  Since the pool won’t be ready for a while yet, I thought I’d give running a try.”

Her expression sobered.  “Shouldn’t you…run before breakfast, not afterwards?”

“Where would I get my energy from?” he replied without a trace of irony, sitting down to do his laces up.

She glanced at Charlie waiting by the open door.  “Charlie might not enjoy the new routine.”

“I’ll stick to the trails in the hills.  He knows the way home.”  Standing up, Jack made to jog on the spot, and again she stifled a smile.  “If I’m not back in half an hour, send out a search party.  I’ll probably be in a fucking ditch, passed out from exhaustion.”

“Jack, don’t fuck around saying stuff like that,” she said, turning back to the sink.

Covering the distance to her, he wrapped his arms around her middle.  “I’m sorry,” he said, nuzzling her neck.  “I promise to take it slow.”

When she finished in the kitchen, she fired up the laptop and checked her emails, opening Rez’s latest one with ELLEN in the subject box.  In it, he gave her the place, day and time of the recording, which song she should perform as well as times when he’d booked the backing dancers for practice.  Closing the lid without replying, she found a backing track to _The Cure_ , the next song from her current album to be released as a single, and played it over the sound system. 

Clicking her fingers in time with the song, she sang the first verse, quietly at first, and then more confidently.  She liked the finger snapping and electronic dance beat at the start; it gave the track a slightly different vibe from _Heal Me_ , or _Hair, Body and Face_.  She remembered like it was yesterday the night on the bus she’d penned the words while she’d still been touring with Jack and the band.  As it was the case with most of her writing, the lyrics were deeply personal to their story and she’d literally been lying in his arms when the words had come to her. 

“ _I'll undress you, 'cause you're tired_  
_Cover you as you desire_  
_When you fall asleep inside my arms_  
_May not have the fancy things_  
_But I'll give you everything_  
_You could ever want, it's in my arms.”_

She stopped singing suddenly, then strode over to the sound system and turned it off.  Rez had told her which song to sing, but he hadn’t said anything about arrangement.  And if she sang the song at the piano, then there would be no need for dancers.   She paced up and down the room a few times and then her hands clenching and unclenching nervously sat down at the piano and started over.

 _“So baby tell me yes_  
_And I will give you everything_  
_So baby tell me yes_  
_And I will be all yours tonight_  
_So baby tell me yes_  
_And I will give you everything_  
_I will be right by your side_

 _“If I can't find the cure, I'll_  
_I'll fix you with my love_  
_No matter what you know, I'll_  
_I'll fix you with my love_  
_And if you say you're okay_  
_I'm gonna heal you anyway_  
_Promise I'll always be there_  
_Promise I'll be the cure.”_

She was about to start singing the next verse when she saw movement in her peripheral vision.  “I see you made it back in one piece,” she said, raising her hands from the keyboard.

“Just about,” he replied, taking another swig of his water.  “Feels good though.”

His face, neck and chest were flushed and glistening with sweat, giving him a happy, healthy glow.  “Yeah?”

Nodding, he sat down beside her, and she scooted over on the bench.  “Keep going,” he then said, nodding at the piano.  “It sounded great.”

Smiling softly, she resumed from where she left off.  She was about to launch into the second verse when he did, and she turned toward him with surprise.

 _“Rub your feet, your hands, your legs,”_ he began to sing quietly, watching her.   
_Let me take care of it, babe_  
_Close your eyes, I'll sing your favourite song_  
_I wrote you this lullaby_  
_Hush now baby, don't you cry_  
_Anything you want could not be wrong.”_

Laughing, she joined in, harmonising her voice to his when he got to the pre-chorus.  It always amazed her how he knew all the words to her songs, not only that but he knew exactly how to fit them to the melody just as well as she did, even though this time she’d changed both the rhythm and tempo.

“So, what do you think?” she asked, lifting her hands off the keyboard and turning toward him after she’d played the final note.

“I love how we sound together,” he said, a little melancholy all of a sudden.

Her face softened with a smile.  “Me too, but I meant the arrangement, you know, at the piano.”

He shrugged.  “You know what I’m going to say.  Like this, just you and the piano, it’s just so fucking gorgeous, you know? You don’t know how fucking gorgeous you look and sound when you play like that.”

“Jack―”

“It’s true.  You have such beautiful tone and range.  You don’t need all the dancehall-inspired synth-pop shit―”

“You’re not helping,” she cut in, feigning a pout.

“I’m not helping?” he said, laughing.

She smiled. “No, you’re not.” 

“Okay.  Okay,” he said, trying, in vain, to school his features.  “Ask me again.”

Her smile broadened.  “So, what do you think?  Should I do it like that on the Ellen Show?”

He pursed his face thoughtfully.  “What does Rez have to say about it?”

“I don’t know.  I haven’t mentioned it to him.  All he said was to play that particular song.  He never said anything about arrangements.”  

Jack gave a long sigh.  “People will love whichever way you sing it.  They’re just different version of the same beautiful song.  If anything, singing it like that at the piano without distractions will get your audience to sit up and pay attention, you know?  Listen more closely to what you’re saying.”

She gave a musing nod.

"But Rez won't like it."

Scrunching her eyes shut, she let out a frustrated growl.  “Oh, I don’t know what to do.”

“Hey, hey,” he said, gently coaxing her face around toward him.  “Follow your instincts.  If your gut’s telling you that you should play the song at the piano, then play the song at the piano.  Don’t give it a second thought.”

“I don’t even know if Ellen has a piano.”

He laughed.  “She’ll have one, and if she doesn’t then she’ll get one.  And if she can’t get one, then we’ll have this one shipped over.”

A smile spreading, she gave a nod.  With a sigh, she dropped her head and closing her eyes let it fall onto his sweaty chest.  Jack’s hand lifted to her back, patting comfortingly as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Just be yourself,” he whispered into her hair.  “Ellen’s going to love you.”

She looked up and smiled.  “You’re biased.”

“Sure I’m biased.  What’s wrong with that?  Doesn’t mean I’m not right.”

“Play with me, please.”

He sighed.  “Ally―we talked about it, remember?”

“You don't have to sing. Just play.  We can work on an arrangement together like we did for _One More Light_.”

“Ally, you know we can’t.  It wouldn’t be right.  This is your time to shine.  Besides, I already told you.  I’m not ready to go back out there.”

The doorbell rang, startling them.  Charlie got up and heading toward the door began to bark.

“You expecting a delivery?” Jack asked, pushing to his feet.

She shook her head, and frowning he went to answer the door.  She heard voices, then the door closed and thinking Jack was coming back she began playing the song over on the piano.  She was at the chorus when she heard voices talking outside, coming closer until she saw Jack and a man walk past the window.  Turning to look at her, Jack grinned then made a thumbs-up sign.  She stood and watched through the window with growing confusion as they headed to the yard.  She was going to join them when she realised she was still in her pyjamas, and she sat back down at the piano.

“The pool contractor’s here,” Jack said, popping his head in the room awhile later, startling her. 

“Was that today?”

“Come and take a look at the plans.  I just saw them; I’m so fucking excited.  The guy said the pool permit’s been approved.  They’re starting tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

He nodded.  “It’s going to get noisy and there’s going to be a lot a machinery.  We got to make sure Charlie stays out of the way.”

She pondered his words. “Maybe we could…stay at my father’s for a while.”

“You kidding me, right?” Jackson exclaimed, wincing as he stepped fully into the room.  “Can you imagine it?  Sharing the same bed as you and not being able to…you know…do anything?  That'd be like...torture of the worst kind.”

She laughed.  “My father’s not a prude.  He knows we’re married.”

Covering the distance to her, he cupped his hands to her face and planted a smacker square on her lips.  “Get dressed, and come take a look.  It’s fucking awesome.”

His excitement was contagious, and she laughed.  “I’ll be right out.”

Jackson joined the contractor back in the yard while Ally went to the bedroom.  As she got dressed, she could hear them talk and when moving the curtain aside she took a look, the contractor was gesturing about the yard while Jack grinned and nodded his head enthusiastically.  In the bathroom, she quickly brushed her teeth, put a little face cream on and pulled her hair back in a ponytail. 

Then she had a quick pee.  She was about to flush the toilet when her smile faded and she paused in her tracks.  She frowned, then with a hard swallow used two fingers to pick up the tissue she’d just used to wipe herself, her eyes filling as she realised that the pinkish streak she thought she’d noticed was indeed blood.

Quickly, panicky, she pulled her pants down again, tore off a couple more squares of toilet paper and used them to gently wipe herself again. Her hands were shaking as she held the balled tissue up.  Again, there was blood.  Not a lot, but enough to send her into her panic. 

“No.  Please, God, no,” she said, her tears falling.

It struck her then that it was less than a week ago that she’d prayed to the same God for her not to be pregnant.  She’d had doubts about keeping the baby, hell, she’d had doubts about wanting this baby at all, and just when she was coming around to the idea nature was making the decision for her.

“Ally?” Jackson called from the kitchen.  “What’s taking you so long?”

“Jack!” she cried, and then more frantically, “Jack!”

“What’s wrong?” he said, breathless as he burst into the bathroom.  “You being sick?”

“No,” she gasped, more tears falling.  She showed him the bloody tissue, and eyes wide with fear and incomprehension, he looked her up and down before finally coming to a stop at the pants around her ankles. 

“Ally?”

Her face twisted with anguish.  “I think I’m losing the baby.”

And it was all her fault.


	19. Chapter 19

“I’m sorry,” she said, crying, when all Jackson could do was to stare at the tissue in her hand with disbelief. 

Running a trembling hand through his hair, he looked up and the deep sorrow she saw in his clear blue eyes broke her heart all over again. 

“Jack, I’m sorry.  It’s all my fault.”

“Your fault?” he said in a breathless gasp, and swallowed.  “What are you talking about?”

She tossed the tissue down the toilet and closing her eyes used the ball of her hands to wipe at her wet face.  “It’s my fault I’m losing the baby,” she went on, more tears falling.  She pulled her panties and pants up, but stopped just above her knees. “It’s like—I wasn’t sure I wanted to keep it—”

“Ally, stop right there—” he said, talking over her.

“—and, like, now the decision’s been made for us and—”

Letting out a long, shaky breath, Jackson took a step closer and wrapped tight arms around her small frame, shutting her up.  “It’s not your fault,” he said tearfully, resolutely, holding her so tightly that she had to stand on her tiptoes, and pulled back to look at her.  “You didn’t… _cause_ this.”

“I did,” she said, sniffling back more tears, before blurting out when he watched her with confusion, “I was pregnant before, Jack.  And I got rid of the baby.”

His eyes narrowed quizzically, then showed pain and disbelief before he flicked them away and dropped his hands from her shoulders. 

“Oh, Jack, no,” she said quickly, understanding what was going through his head, pulling him around by the arm when he turned away from her.  “It wasn’t _our_ baby.” Dipping her head, she met his gaze and held it steadily.  “It was years ago, Jack.  I was barely eighteen.  It was a mistake, I mean we were kids and stupid and—”

Managing a numb nod, Jack sat on the edge of the tub. 

She opened her mouth, only to shut it dejectedly.  “Do you think I’m being punished?” she then asked, the thought bringing about a fresh wave of tears.

He looked up at her with watery eyes.  “What?”

Her tears redoubled.  “You know, for what I did then, and for thinking about doing it now.”

“Baby, no,” Jack said, springing to his feet.  “I don’t think that at all.”  He cupped her face and stared at her intently before once again closing his arms around her for long seconds.  Blowing out a deep breath, he pulled back from her.   “This…blood.  It might not be what you think.”  His throat clogged with emotion and he cleared it.  “Maybe it’s…nothing.” 

“Jack, I’m bleeding,” she insisted, her face crumbling. “Fucking bleeding and I’m pregnant.  It’s not nothing.”

“It’s only a little blood,” he argued.  “Let’s just—”

“A little blood?” she repeated with disbelief, and wiped at the tears blurring her eyes.  “Jack, I shouldn’t be bleeding at all!”

He swallowed.  “Let’s just…let’s not panic, okay?” he said, going left and then right before stopping suddenly.  “How long ago did it start?”

“I—I don’t know.  I only just noticed.”

“Are you in any pain?”

Pinching her lips to stop more tears from falling, she shook her head.  “What do we do?”

“I’m going to call an ambulance.”

“An ambulance?  What?  No, Jack—If I’m miscarrying then there’s nothing they can do.”

“Don’t say that, Ally.  Please, don’t say that.  It might not be that.”

“Oh, Jack—”

“Let’s just—let’s call the doctor then.  We need to have you and the baby checked out, right?  Better still,” he went on, the words tumbling out in a rush, “I'm going to take you to the hospital.  That’s what we’re going to do.  Go to the hospital.  They’ll have all the equipment there.  They’ll have all they need to make you better.”

“Jack, don’t you understand.” More tears fell.  “They can’t stop a miscarriage from happening!”

“We’ve got to fucking do something, alright?” he shouted.  He closed his eyes and clenched his fists and took a deep, fraught breath all at once, and she realised that her panic had awakened and was fuelling the demons in his head. 

Nodding, she forced herself to be strong and calm – for both their sakes – because he was trying so hard, and it wasn’t fucking fair.  She tore off more toilet paper and wiped herself with it, her heart clenching when she saw more blood.  She threw the tissue down the toilet, then flushed. “Okay,” she said, putting a comforting hand to his shoulder, “but I don’t want to go to the hospital.  It’s too exposed.  I don’t want us plastered all over social media.”

“Where then?”

“The pregnancy clinic.”

Relief flooded his face and, looking appeased, if not calmer, he nodded his head. 

“Just—can you pass me a pad from the closet?”

He frowned.  “A pad?”

“You know, for the bleeding.”

Nodding, he moved to the closet and reaching inside took out a maxi pad from the box.

“That one’s too big,” she said, smiling through her tears despite herself. 

He reached into another box for a thinner one he handed over.  While she fixed the pad to her panties and got dressed, Jack strode out, returning seconds later with his cell, a sweater and a T-shirt he was hurriedly pulling over his head.  He was putting his arms through the sleeves when he swore in frustration, took the T-shirt off again and put it back on the right way around.  Then he turned on his phone and connected it to the internet.  She watched as with shaking fingers he typed the words pregnant and bleeding in the browser.

A knock coming from the kitchen startled them.  “Anyone home?” a man’s voice called.  “Mr Maine?”

“Fuck.  The pool guy,” Jack said under his breath, and then loudly, “Yeah.  Sure.  I’m coming.”

He screwed his eyes shut, then gave his head a shake and handed the cell over to her.  When Charlie wandered in, he made to leave the bathroom before turning in his tracks and pulling her in his arms again.  “It’s going to be okay,” he said, smiling softly as he pulled back and pressed his lips to her forehead.  “This baby’s not going anywhere, okay?”  He lowered his eyes and his hand to her stomach before crouching down in front of it.  “Okay, little one in there?” he went on, his voice soft, his face level with her navel as he patted her stomach.  Tears filled his eyes. “You’re staying put.  And stop scaring your Mommy.”

He looked up and watched her with uncertain eyes, and mustering a small smile she nodded her head at him.

“Grab your purse and my wallet,” he went on, straightening up, “And wait for me in the truck.  I’ll go talk to the pool guy and lock up.”

“What about Charlie?”

Jackson paused.  “He’ll be alright for a few hours.”

She gave a nod, and did as bid.  As soon as she was in the truck, she opened and read the webpage Jack had brought up on his phone.  Bleeding, or spotting as she found out it was called, was quite common in pregnancy.  While some spotting was harmless, it could also mean something more serious.  According to the website, bleeding due to a miscarriage begins around six to eight weeks of pregnancy.  It started with spotting, progressing to heavy cramping, and then to a heavier than normal period.

Her vision blurring, she blew out a deep, steadying breath and clutched her purse to herself, almost using it a shield against her stomach.  She’d had one job – to keep the baby safe – and she hadn’t been able to do that.  But then she told herself, that yes, she’d had some bleeding but that she felt no pain and certainly no cramping.  She dried her eyes, then brought up the cell again and swiped down the page with a shaky finger. What she read afterwards was more optimistic. 

Light bleeding could occur when the embryo was implanting around the time of one’s expected period.  Well, she thought, it was too late for that.  Her missed period had occurred almost two weeks ago.  She read on, finding out that she could also be having a light period, which sometimes occurred at about seven to eight weeks of gestation, at the time when a woman’s period would normally happen in the second month.  An internal examination could sometimes cause a little bleeding too, but she hadn’t had one of them yet, as well as a vaginal infection such as yeast, which pregnant women were not immune to.

The garage door opened behind her, startling her, and she watched, calmer now, Jack get in the cab.  Without a word, he turned the key in the ignition and turning toward her with a smile she returned sadly backed the truck out of the garage.  Then he jumped out, locked up and after putting on their seat belt they were on their way.  Jack drove quickly, too quickly, down the dirt track and grabbing the handle on the side to steady herself Ally held the cell firmly as she read on.

“What does it say?” Jack said as they joined the main road out of their neighbourhood.

She looked up and over at him, noticing how set his jaw was as he stared at the road ahead, how white his knuckles were as he gripped the steering wheel.  He was trying to maintain a cool exterior but inside she knew the battle against his demons and the cravings had started.  She turned off the cell, then reached out her hand, touching his arm holding the wheel, smiling when he turned to look at her.  She told him about spotting and the many reasons why it could be happening, that it was probably no big deal, but needed checking out just in case.

“There you have it,” he said, squeezing her hand comfortingly, his relief clearly etched on his face despite his confident tone.  “I told you.”  Signalling, he checked his rear-view mirror and joined the freeway. “We’re okay,” he went on, nodding to himself.  “It’s going to be okay.”

He looked over at her, and she managed a weak smile.  “I don’t want to lose the baby, Jack,” she said, her lips pinching as her tears returned.

He blew out a deep breath, reaching over to squeeze her hand on her lap.  “We won’t,” he said.  “I promise you we won’t.”

She nodded her head, tried to keep her tears from falling, but in vain.

“That’s not going to happen, alright?” he insisted, clasping her thigh.  “We’re going to get you checked out and we’ll do whatever it takes.”

After another nod, she turned her face away and stared unseeingly at the passing landscape. 

“Maybe you should call ahead,” he said, “The clinic.  Let them know we’re coming.”

She swapped his cell for hers in her purse, scrolled through her contacts to P where she’d saved the number for the clinic and connected the call.  “It’s engaged,” she said, ending the call.  “Oh, God,” she went on miserably.  “My father.  I forgot we were meeting for lunch.”

Jackson flicked his eyes off the road.  “It’s okay.  Call him.  It’s not too late.”

“And what am I going to tell him?”

“Tell him that you’re not feeling well.  That you’re going to the doctor’s.  It’s not a lie.”

She sighed, then gave a nod and as she connected the call tried to think of words to explain what was happening that would not send her father into a panic. 

Lorenzo replied on the second ring.  “Hello, sweetie, I was just thinking about you.” 

She could hear Frank Sinatra in the background, singing _Old Devil Moon._

“I—I…”  Tears filed her eyes again, and she wiped at them shakily.

“Ally, what’s wrong?” 

She took a breath.  “I’m not going to be able to make lunch,” she went on, crying despite herself.  Turning toward her, Jack reached out his hand to hers on her lap. 

Her father turned Sinatra off.  “You and Jackson had a fight, is that it?  Has he been drinking again?”

“No, Dad, no, nothing like that.  Jack’s right here with me.”  She glanced at her husband.  “He—he’s driving me to the clinic.”

“The clinic?”

“The pregnancy clinic.”

“Are you okay?” Lorenzo exclaimed with growing concern.

“I’m fine, but…there was a little bleeding, you know,” she went on pointedly, choking up, “so, huh, we’re on our way to have it checked out.”

“Oh, sweetheart.”  Lorenzo lapsed into silence, and she knew that just like her he was already thinking the worst.  “Give me the address of the clinic.  I’m coming over.”

“No, Dad. It’s okay.”

“Ally—”

“Jack’s with me,” she insisted tearfully.  “I’m okay. I—it’s best if you don’t come.  Please.”

There was a long pause.  “Sweetie, I’m sorry.”

Her tears fell.  “Don’t say that.  Please, don’t say that.”

Jack turned toward her with a frown and she looked away.

“What can I do?” Lorenzo asked.

“Nothing, Dad.  There’s nothing you can do.”

“We’re there,” Jack said softly, refocusing her, and she nodded.

“Dad, we’re there.  I got to go.  I’ll call you as soon as I can, okay?”  And before he could speak again she hung up.  Jackson pulled up in a handicapped parking space next to the entrance, and after putting her cell away she removed her sunglasses to wipe her face and around her eyes. 

“You okay?” he asked, killing the engine and turning toward her as he released his seat belt. 

“No,” she said in a small voice, only just keeping it together.

Looking pained, he shuffled closer to her, then opened his arms for a hug she gratefully fell into and held her fiercely to him.  “It’s going to be fine,” he said again, but he didn’t sound so confident now, and she understood that his words and the hug were as much for his benefit as they were for hers.  “Come on,” he went on, pulling back after what felt like long minutes, “let’s do this.”

She put her sunglasses back on, then retrieved her ball cap from her purse and fixed that on her head.  By the time she was ready, Jack had already come around to her side and was opening the door for her.  He held his hand out, and she took it, entwining her fingers as shouldering her purse she came out of the truck.  He locked up, and the automatic doors immediately opening for them they rushed inside.  Stopping in the entrance, Jackson pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head before scanning his eyes around uncertainly.  The waiting area was busy, and the middle-aged attendant at the front desk was dealing with a young couple.

Gently tugging her forward, Jackson moved to stand behind them.  “We need to see a doctor,” he said, leaning forward.  “And we need to see one now.  It’s an emergency.”

The attendant glanced at him, but didn’t acknowledge his words until she’d finished dealing with the young couple.

“What kind of emergency?” she then asked, her gaze flicking to Ally, then back to Jack again before narrowing suddenly, probingly.  It was as if she recognised them but couldn’t quite place where from. 

“The kind that’s fucking urgent, alright?” he snapped, and Ally squeezed his hand.  “I’m sorry,” he went on, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.  “I’m sorry…”  He leaned forward to read the name on the attendant’s badge, “Marcie.  It’s just…we’re worried, you know?”

“I’m bleeding,” Ally said, talking in a whisper as she stepped past Jack.

Marcie refocused on her.  “Bleeding?”

Ally nodded.  “Spotting, I think it’s called.”

“How far along are you?”

“A little over six weeks?”

“Okay.”  Marcie gave her a nod, then a warm smile.  “I know it’s a scary thing, but spotting is actually very common during pregnancy and most of the time it’s nothing to worry about.  It doesn’t necessarily mean you’re having a miscarriage.”

“But it can do, right?” Jackson chipped in, leaning his good ear forward.

Marcie gave a small nod.  “We’ll get you checked out, don’t worry.  Are you already a patient here?”

Casting a quick look around, Ally nodded her head.  “My name’s Ally—Allison Campana,” she finished, smiling sadly at Jack.

“All the doctors are busy right now,” Marcie said, her eyes flicking from Ally to Jack and back again.  “If you’d like—”

“We want to see Ally’s doctor,” Jack cut in.

His sharp tone made Ally raise a pacifying hand to his arm.  “Jack, it doesn’t matter—”

“What’s the name of that doctor again?” he cut in, turning toward her as if he hadn’t heard her.  “The one you said was nice.”

“Dr Stanislas.”

Jackson turned back to Marcie.  “That’s the one.  We want to see _her_.”

“Sir, if you’d like to take a seat,” Marcie said, not so patiently now, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” Ally said, turning to go and sit down.

“My wife’s bleeding,” Jack snapped, his voice rising, and she stopped in her tracks.  “Fucking bleeding.  We can’t wait!”

“Jackson, keep your voice down, please,” Ally said, stealing a glance over her shoulder toward the waiting area.  “People are looking.”

Frowning, Marcie stared at Jack before flicking her eyes over to Ally and then back to Jack again.  This time recognition flashed across her eyes.  Her face lit up and she opened her mouth before she caught herself.  For a moment, she seemed frozen into inaction.  Ally glanced at the people in the waiting area again, felt their stares, their looks of reproach and indignation that they were trying to jump the line, but of recognition too.  Someone nudged the person they were sitting next to and talking quietly pointed in their direction.  A cell phone came out of a pocket. 

Pulling her ball cap down, Ally turned away but it was too late.  All she hoped was that the poor lighting made for a poor photograph that would show her and Jackson as unrecognisable as themselves.  After all, beardless and in sports gear Jackson looked a far cry from his normal self.  “Jack, we need to leave,” she whispered urgently, grasping his arm as she leaned into his ear.

“What?”

Noticing what was going on, Marcie walked around from behind the counter.  “Come with me,” she said, motioning toward a door marked, “Employees Only,” down a corridor to their left.

Jackson grabbed Ally’s hand, and using her key card Marcie let them in to the staff's break room, which doubled up as a locker room.

“Thank you,” Ally said, grateful for Marcie’s prompt actions.

“Sorry,” Jackson said, his head shaking in disbelief as he rubbed his hand down his face.  “I didn’t mean to make a fuc—” he caught himself in time, finally saying, “A scene.  It’s…just…fucking frustrating.”

Marcie smiled softly.  “It’s okay.  I—You can sit down if you want,” she said, motioning to a couple of padded chairs.  “You should have said who you were from the start.”

Ally began to pace, and stopping her Jack enveloped her in his arms.  “Would that have un-busied the docs?” he asked wryly.

Marcie's smile widened.  “No.”  A phone began to ring distantly, and Marcie moved toward the door.  “I’d better get back,” she said.  “I’m on my own today.  I’ll let Dr Stanislas know you’re here.”

“Thank you,” Ally said.

Stopping at the door, Marcie gave them another smile.  She ran her eyes the length of Jackson’s body.  “I know it’s not the right time, but I’m a big fan.”

Jackson smiled a little stiffly, and Marcie left.

“You okay?” Ally asked.

He gave his head a desolate shake.  “I’m sorry about…what happened just then.  I—I…”  He dropped down into one of the chairs and covered his face.

A comforting hand moving to his back, she sat down on the next chair.  “The cravings?”

He nodded his head without looking up.

“I can go in to see the doctor on my own if you want.  I’m sure they won’t mind if you wait here.”

“No.”  He looked up sharply.  “I’m your fucking husband, Ally, I should be there with you.”

She gave him a smile, and closing her arms around him from the side leaned her head against his shoulder.  Truth be told, she wanted him - needed him - there with her.  For something to do to calm her nerves as they waited, she helped herself to some cold water from the dispenser, then resumed her seat beside Jackson who stood and began to pace restlessly before he sat down again. Soon they heard the telltale buzzing sound of a key card unlocking the door, and Dr Stanislas came in.

“Ally,” she said, with a bright smile.  “Nice to see you again.”

Smiling, Ally stood up, and Jack followed suit.  “This is Jackson, my husband.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr Maine.”

“You too, Doc,” Jackson said.  “And call me Jack.  Ally said you’ve been real nice to her.”

Dr Stanislas gave a little girlish giggle.  “I’d like to think I was nice to all my patients.”  She schooled her features into her professional mask.  “Would you like to come my office?  We’ll go the back way.”

Ally and Jackson shared a look, then followed Dr Stanislas to her office.

"So, Ally,” she said, closing the door after them, her professional mask firmly in place now, “Marcie said you’d had some spotting?”

Ally nodded her head.  “It started this morning.”

“Any abdominal or lower back pain, or cramping to go with it?”

“No,” she replied in a soft voice.  “Just the bleeding.”

“Come over this way,” the doctor said, motioning to a screened off area. “If you could undress from the waist down and lay down on the examination table, I’ll do the internal exam we’ve been putting off.”

Nodding, Ally sat down at the edge of the table and before she could move to take her boots off, Jack was already crouching down in front of her, pulling them off. He gave her a soft, reassuring smile and she pulled her pants and panties down her legs before scooting up and laying down on the table a little self-consciously.  Immediately, Dr Stanislas opened out a disposable paper sheet over Ally’s stomach and groin. Then she fixed a couple of stirrups to the end of the table.  Jackson winced.

“You don’t have to stay for this if you don’t want to,” Ally told him.

“No, no.  It's fine.”  He gave a tight smile, and she reached for his hand, squeezing it supportively.

“Can I take a look?” Dr Stanislas said, indicating the bloody pad still fixed to Ally’s panties.

With a swallow, Ally showed the doctor. 

“Is that the only pad you’ve used?” the doctor then asked, adding when Ally nodded her head, “Red or brown spotting, or light flow, as you have here, sometimes mixed with a little mucus is what we consider normal,” she explained, and Ally closed her eyes and squeezed Jack's hand at the wave of relief that crashed through her.  “But you were right to come and have it checked anyway.”

“So the baby is okay,” Jackson said, returning her hand squeeze before he bent down to kiss her forehead.

The doctor wheeled over a swivel chair and sat down on it.  “That’s what I’m about to check.”

Jackson and Ally watched with fearful eyes as Dr Stanislas pulled a couple of latex gloves from a box on a nearby cart, slipped them on and turned on a side lamp.  “So, Ally, this is going to feel exactly like a pap smear, okay?” the doctor said, putting a surgical mask over her mouth.  “You’re going to feel a little discomfort, but it won’t hurt at all.  And it won’t harm the baby.”

Ally nodded.  “Okay.”

“Now relax your legs.”  The doctor moved her legs to the right position and after inserting the speculum began her vaginal exam.  “Yep, there it is,” she said, looking up again, “The cause of the bleeding - a small cervical abrasion.  Have you…had intercourse in the last few hours?”

Ally looked over at Jack, then nodded her head at the doctor. 

“Sexual activity can sometimes cause bleeding of the cervix.”

“I did that?” Jack gasped, refocusing both women.

“I’m afraid so,” the doctor said, chuckling softly, returning her attention to her examination.

But Jackson didn’t see the funny side.  Looking mortified, he dropped Ally’s hand and blowing out a deep breath moved to sit on a nearby chair.  

“You okay?” she asked in a whisper, watching him with concern.

“It’s really nothing to worry about, Mr Maine," the doctor said reassuringly.  "This early in pregnancy, the cervix is very tender and sensitive, and full of blood due to the rising levels of oestrogen in your wife’s body.  Everything looks good otherwise and progressing as it should this end.”

Ally could tell he wasn’t listening.  “Jack?” she called.

He scrunched his eyes shut, and she understood not only that the cravings were back, but that he was struggling to contain them. 

“Jack, it’s okay,” she said more loudly, reaching over to pat his leg to draw him back to the present.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, dropping a trembling hand from in front of his eyes and she could see the moisture there.  “I didn’t mean to hurt you or the baby.”  He sounded heartbroken.

“Jack,” she said.  “You didn’t hurt me, and you didn't hurt the baby either.”

He gave a nod, but she could see he was unconvinced.

“While we’re all here,” the doctor said, removing the speculum as she straightened up. "Let’s do an ultrasound and make sure everything’s progressing as it should inside the womb. Put your minds at rest.”

“Can we do that?” Ally said, excitedly.  “Isn’t it too early to see anything?”

“Well, it’s too early to see a baby – it’s still in the embryonic stage – but we can still see plenty.” 

“Oh, Jack!” she said, beaming with uncontained anticipation, and he gave her a tight nod.

Dr Stanislas moved the speculum aside and, while straightening up her legs Ally covered herself up again with the sheet, pulled off her dirty gloves and put on a pair of clean ones. She wheeled a second cart over and turned on a monitor, then eased Ally’s T-shirt up over her stomach and reached for a bottle she uncapped.  “It’s going to feel a little cold, I’m afraid,” she said, squirting a little gel over Ally’s belly, and picked up the transducer.

“Is that like a microphone?” Jack asked.

“Of sorts, I guess,” Dr Stanislas said, laughing as she gently pressed the wand to Ally’s stomach.  “The transducer transmits sound waves into your body. The sound waves bounce off various surfaces – including your baby – as vibrations. The echoes are translated into electrical signals that are projected as this sonogram, here on the screen.  Don’t be surprised if you don’t see anything resembling a baby yet.”

Ally’s eyes flicked off the monitor screen to the doctor, and she nodded.  She glanced at Jack, whose narrowed gaze was intent on the monitor too. 

“This small black round thing there,” the doctor went on, highlighting the grainy image on the screen, “is the gestational sac.  It’s home for baby right now.”

“Oh, my God, Jack, this is real!” she said, looking over to him again and he flashed her a smile.

“Oh, it’s real, for sure,” the doctor said.  She took a few measurements.  “It looks about six weeks and three days – which is where you should be, taking into account the start of your last period.”

“That’s the uterus?” Ally asked.

“That’s inside the uterus. In a good central position, which rules out an ectopic pregnancy.  And this here is the yolk sac.”

Ally nodded, even though she wasn’t quite sure what she was looking at.  “How big’s the baby?”

“About the size of a lentil,” Dr Stanislas replied, sounding a little distracted now.

“How big’s a lentil?” Jack asked.

The doctor pressed the transducer a little harder into Ally’s stomach and frowned as she moved it left, then right and up and down.  “About three to four millimetres?” she replied after a beat, her eyes steadfast on the screen.

“Something wrong?” Ally asked, her eyes flicking from the doctor to the sonogram tracking the moving grainy pictures.

“Shouldn’t we be hearing a heartbeat or something?” Jack asked.

“That’s what I’m looking for,” the doctor replied, and Ally swallowed.  “Let’s try here.”  She lifted the wand up and tried again.

“Doc?” Jackson said, and Ally lifted scared eyes up to him.

“Is the baby okay?” she asked.

“It’s not uncommon not to hear a heartbeat at six weeks when doing an abdominal ultrasound,” the doctor said with a smile that failed to appease either of them.  Putting the wand down, she reached for a paper towel and used it to wipe the gel off Ally’s belly.  “I’m going to try a vaginal ultrasound.  It means inserting the transducer into your vagina, but it makes for a clearer picture.  There’s no guarantees though.”  Gently, she moved Ally’s legs, putting them on the stirrups and Ally turned toward Jack.  

His eyes were shut tight.  He gave his head a shake and took a few steps back.

“Jack?” Ally called anxiously, “You okay?”

He seemed to refocus when she called his name, but the haunted look she saw in his eyes told her that despite his best efforts the demons were feeding on his fear about the baby and winning.  He glanced at the doctor, then at the monitor and back at her. There was shame in his eyes now, shame and self-loathing because he wasn’t able to cope and control the negative thoughts in his head.  She reached out her hand to him, but with a desolate shake of the head he turned on his heels.

“Jack—”

He paused, but didn’t turn to look at her.  “I just…need a little fresh air.  I’ll be right back.”

His fists were clenched by his sides, and she knew the battle was lost.  She made to go to him, but Dr Stanislas was inserting the transducer between her legs and she couldn’t.  

She could only watch, her heart breaking, as he exited the room.

“Men can feel a little…awkward about vaginal ultrasounds,” Dr Stanislas said, matter-of-fact.

If only that was all it was, Ally thought.

Jack never made it back.

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m borrowing yet another song, this time, Disturbed’s 'A Reason To Fight'. Listen to the live version on YouTube if you want to get a feel for the tune. Lyrics as usual in italics. I have changed them very slightly so that they work as a duet. :)

A fast and steady and slightly muffled boom, boom, boom refocused Ally suddenly, and she turned her head toward the ultrasound monitor.  A new moving picture, black and grainy like the previous one, filled the screen and in the middle of it a small dark, round beating pulse.

“There it is,” the doctor said with visible delight.  “Foetal heartbeat.  Sounds great.”

“That’s the baby’s heartbeat?” Ally exclaimed with surprise.

“Yes, it is.  Strong and steady, just as I like it.”

Ally’s face lit up with joy and wonder alike.  “Oh my God, it’s so fast,” she marvelled, and then frowning with concern as she turned to the doctor, “Isn’t it too fast?”

 Dr Stanislas shook her head.  “It’s about 105 beats per minute,” she said, looking at the data on the monitor, “Which is excellent.” 

The smile lingering on her lips, Ally closed her eyes and let the sound of her baby’s heartbeat penetrate her heart and soul.  She wished Jack was there with her, so he could have shared in her joy and amazement, in all the positive emotion she was feeling right then.  Her heart was filled with so much love for that baby, so much love and devotion, that she thought it might burst.  “Could I…record it for Jack?” she then asked, reopening tearful eyes when the sound stopped, “The baby’s heartbeat, I mean.  On my phone.”

“Sure,” Dr Stanislas said, moving the transducer as she stared at the sonogram, “Let me just take a quick look at the ovaries first.”  She tapped a few keys on her keyboard, inputting measurements, then smiled at Ally warmly.  “Everything looks good there too.”  She shifted the transducer again, bringing back the picture of the uterus on the screen before turning on the sound.  “Would you like me to check if your husband’s waiting outside?  So he can hear it for himself?”

Ally paused.  “No, it’s okay.  He won’t be there,” she said confidently, knowing that if he’d hung around he’d have come back in by now, and tried to grab her purse from the chair nearby but couldn’t quite reach. “He’s probably waiting in the truck, or some place quiet, you know, out of the way.”

“Oh, of course.  I understand.” 

Realising what Ally was trying to do, Dr Stanislas reached for Ally’s purse and passed it over.  Smiling her thanks, Ally rummaged inside for her cell phone. 

“It must be…difficult to be famous like you and your husband are and manage to keep a private life,” the doctor went on.

“It is.”  Ally smiled softly.  “Especially for me.  Jack handles it better.”  She laughed quietly.  “Well, most of the time.”

“He’s been doing it longer, I guess,” the doctor said with a nod of understanding.  

Ally unlocked her cell phone, and holding it sideways made a thirty-second video recording of the sonogram, beating heart and all.  When she finished, Dr Stanislas froze the image on the screen, turning off the sound, and then gently withdrew the transducer.  “There you are, all done,” she said, rolling the chair back as she stood.  “Would you like a printout of the sonogram?”

Ally’s face lit up again.  “Yes, please.”

The doctor pressed a key, then gave Ally a paper towel to clean herself up with and helped her out of the stirrups and into a sitting position.  “You can get dressed now.  We’re all done.” 

Ally hurriedly did as bid, then sent the video recording she’d just made to Jack and her father’s cell phones.  That way, their minds would hopefully be put at rest before she got a chance to speak to them.  

“There you are,” Dr Stanislas said, returning with the sonogram printout she held out to her after Ally put her cell away.  “Your baby’s first picture.”

A wide smile forming on her lips, Ally took the proffered printout and studied the black blob where the baby was growing in detail.  _Her_ baby, she thought then, touching her hand to the sonogram and then to her stomach.  _Their_ baby.  A little boy, or a little girl, she hadn’t known she loved already.  Tears of joy filled her eyes, and she shook her head in disbelief at the thought that she’d even considered getting rid of the baby.  He – or _she_ – was half her and half Jackson, and despite all her fears about postpartum depression she now knew in her heart of hearts she would never stop loving it. 

Was that true of her mother too, she wondered then?

“I take it you’ve come to a decision,” Dr Stanislas said quietly, refocusing her.

“A decision?” Ally repeated, wiping a knuckle under her eyes as she looked up.

“About the pregnancy.”

“Oh.”  Her smile returning, Ally glanced at the sonogram and nodded her head eagerly.  “Yes, I have.  We’re keeping the baby!” she exclaimed excitedly.

“Good.  So, I guess I’ll see you again in, let’s say, four weeks’ time?”

Ally’s smile was so big it was beginning to hurt.  “You will.”

“In the meantime, rest when you feel tired – and you will, believe me, it’ll get worse before it gets better – eat well, drink lots of water and remember to take a folate supplement.  One 400-microgram tablet every day.”

Her head bobbing enthusiastically, Ally made a mental note to stop by the drugstore on the way home to get some.  “I will.”

“And remember to tell your husband that sex is encouraged during pregnancy, that a little spotting is nothing to worry about.  The baby isn’t harmed in any way.  Anything more serious though, like cramping or severe pain in your abdomen or passing white-pink mucus or tissue-like clots and you come and see me immediately.”

“Thank you.”

Marcie was on the phone when after a quick stop in the ladies’ room she returned to the front desk.  After dealing with the necessary paperwork, Ally paused and smiled a little awkwardly.  “You didn’t happen to see where my husband went, did you?” she asked in a whisper.

Frowning, Marcie shook her head.  “I never saw him leave, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.  He’s probably waiting in the truck.”  She made to leave, then thought better of it.  “Thank you for what you did before, you know, when people were starting to recognise us.  We really appreciate it.”

Marcie’s face softened with pleasure.  “You’re welcome.  For what it’s worth, I don’t think the people that took the photograph managed to get a decent shot of you.  I heard them complain about it.  I think the cat’s out of the bag though, as far as you being pregnant.”

With a sigh, Ally nodded her head. She gave Marcie a parting smile and, as she made her way outside, thought about Rez and his reaction to finding out the news.  Would it be better if it came from her rather than some post on social media, she wondered then?  Oh, well, he was going to be mad either way.  Outside, she found the truck empty.  Vainly scanning her eyes around the parking lot, she rummaged inside her purse for her cell phone.  A text message from her father was waiting, and she opened it.

 _Sweetie, I am so happy I have no words,_ her father wrote, and her smile returned. _Call me._  

With a sigh, she called Jack.  When she felt a vibration inside her purse she realised it was his cell phone.  His voicemail kicked in, and scanning her eyes to her surroundings again she disconnected the call.  She put her cell away, finding his and his wallet too.  Knowing that he couldn’t have gone far without either, she cast her eye further out, finally noticing the Taco Bell restaurant trademark sign on the opposite side of the road.

Her heart sank.  He’d been gone what? About half an hour maybe?  How many drinks could he have consumed in that time, she wondered?  Did they even serve alcohol in Taco Bell?  She took a breath and swallowing back her disappointment set off down the sidewalk to the intersection where she crossed over.  She was rounding the corner into the Taco Bell parking lot when she saw him sitting on the curb a little ways away from the restaurant entrance.  His shoulders were hunched, his head bowed between his legs. 

Relief flooded her, first at the fact that she’d found him safe and then that he hadn’t totally surrendered to the urges and made it inside the restaurant.  A few days ago he would have, she was sure of it, and she was proud of the fact that ultimately he’d won the battle, if not the war.  “Here we go again,” she said softly, as dropping down beside him she gently bumped her shoulder to his, “sitting on a curb in a parking lot.”

He looked up and flashed a smile of acknowledgement, and touching her hand to his face she smiled back warmly.  “You got a song to sing?” he quipped, mirthlessly.

She shook her head in reply, and his smile dimming he looked away again.  In that one second, she saw in his eyes all she needed to know about his current state of mind.  Residual anger, but also pain and sadness and disappointment at himself for letting her down, and shame.  Overwhelming shame at not being strong enough to deal with the triggers and overcome his cravings.  Reaching inside her purse, she took out the grainy black and white printout of the ultrasound. 

“Jack, meet our baby,” she said softly, leaning into his ear so he would hear her over the noise of passing traffic.

When frowning he looked up, she showed him the sonogram and, an expression of genuine delight and wonder spreading across his face, he lifted trembling fingers to it.

“We’re both fine,” she told him, her head dropping onto his shoulder as together they stared at the image.

His face lit up.  “Yeah?”

She gave him a soft nod and closing his eyes he let out a long breath.  “I was so worried.  The thought of losing either of you…” 

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” she said, her gaze averting to the ground uncomfortably, “Thinking I didn’t want this baby.  Jack, I want the baby more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”

“I know you do,” he said, draping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her to him.  “I’ve always known.  You were scared, that’s all.”

“I still am.  There’s so much that could go wrong.”

“We’re going to do everything by the book, whatever it takes,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple before lapsing into silence.  “I’m sorry,” he went on after a beat.  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, just then.”

“You were there.”

“Not when the going got tough.  Not when it mattered.”  He sighed.  “I’m sorry this became about me when it should have been about you and the baby.”

“It’s about _us_ , Jack,” she said, taking his hand as she looked into his eyes.  “There’s no me, or you, or the baby.  There’s just us.”  Pausing, she reached inside her purse for her cell phone and retrieved the recording she’d made of their baby’s heartbeat.  She waited until a car had driven past to play it. “Listen to this,” she went on, turning the volume right up and bringing the phone up to his ear as the video began to play.  “Can you hear that beat?  That’s the strong and steady heartbeat of our baby.  An excellent heartbeat, Dr Stanislas called it.”

His eyes filled and, when he closed them, two lone tears rolled down his face.

“105 beats per minutes,” she said, playing the recording again.  “Can you think of a sweeter song?”

“ _Stairway to Heaven_ is 106 BPM.  And that’s close to perfection.”

She laughed. “There you have it.  You didn’t go in,” she insisted, putting her cell phone away.  “You didn’t have a drink.  That’s all that matters.”

Scoffing, he wiped at his cheeks.  “I didn’t have my wallet.”

“They’d have served you.”

He sighed.

“Jack, you chose not to go in.  You didn’t give in.”

“I should have stayed with you.”

She gave a wry smile. “You stayed with me.”

“No, I meant, I should have _chosen_ to stay with you.  I should have beaten the urges that way.  Not by sitting on a fucking curb.”

“There’s always next time.”

He looked up with surprise.

“You have a disease,” she said, “an incurable disease which you’re learning to control.  Next time, you’ll make a different choice, a better choice, because next time you’ll be even stronger.”

He sighed.  “I wish there wouldn’t be a next time.”

She bumped her shoulder to his again.  “I think you’re doing pretty good.”  She paused and frowned, then smiled when unbidden words she almost spoke to him came to her head and then a tune.  Maybe she should sit on curbs more often, she thought, giving her head a shake.

“What’s funny?” he asked.

“You asked me if I had a song to sing before,” she said, and frowning he nodded.  “I think I do.”

He laughed.  “What?  Here, now?”

“I might forget it otherwise.”

“You might draw a crowd.  It’s a busy time of day.”

“I’ll keep it just for you.”  She gathered her thoughts, then cast a quick look around and seeing that they were alone took a deep breath.  _“The image in your eyes,”_ she began to sing in a whisper, holding his gaze steadily, and he cocked his ear toward her, _“Reflecting the pain that has taken you_  
_I hear it in your voice, so ridden with shame_  
_From what's ailing you.”_

 _“_ You just wrote that now?” he asked with disbelief, grinning, echoing words of a lifetime ago, it seemed.

Nodding, she stood up and moved to stand in front of him. 

“There’s more?” he exclaimed, laughing.

A car pulled in to the parking lot and Ally turned toward it.  When the car drove past and parked some way away, she turned back to Jackson.

“We should go,” he said, putting his hands by his sides to push himself up to his feet.  “This place is getting busy.”

“No, wait,” she said, stopping him in his tracks.  She raised her arms up in the air and closed her eyes.  “Wait for it.  It’s coming, I can feel it.”  Eyes closed, she inhaled deeply and opened her mouth, letting the words pour out of her. “ _I won't give up, so don't give in_  
_You've fallen down, but you will rise again  
So don't give up…”_

Smiling, she reopened her eyes and, just when he was about to talk, more words came into her head and she raised her finger, cutting him short.

 _“When the demon that's inside you is ready to begin_  
_And it feels like it's a battle that you will never win_  
_When you're aching for the fire and begging for your sin_  
_When there's nothing left inside, there's still a reason to fight.”_

She stopped and pursed her face, surprised by what she’d come up with, before sitting back down next to him on the curb.  Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Jackson pulled her to him and kissed her hair.  “You’re my reason to fight,” he said.

“And the baby.”

“And the baby,” he repeated, grinning. 

“And your music,” she added, “and Bobby too.”

He nodded, then paused and when he didn’t say anything for a long moment, seemingly getting lost in his own thoughts, she stood up to leave.  The parking lot was slowly filling up, and people were staring as they made their way into Taco Bell.  They needed to make tracks before someone called the cops, or worse recognised them.

“Jack, we should go,” she said, watching as a station wagon drove past.

 _“Lost in my world of lies,”_ he half-sang, half-said in a quiet voice, and she refocused on him suddenly. His brow creased in concentration, he was staring at the ground. _“I find it so hard to believe in me_  
_Can it be real this time?_  
_Or just a part of this game that we’re playing through.”_

He looked up, a soft hesitant smile forming on his lips, and she smiled back.  He swallowed and, his eyes steadfast on her face, reworded the pre-chorus to mirror the lyrics she’d just sung to him.

“ _I won't give in, so don't give up_  
_I've fallen down, but I can rise again  
I won't give up…”_

Her heart swelled with so much love, so much pride.  Laughing, she joined in when he launched into the chorus, forgetting she stood in a car lot as she belted out the words.  A handful of people had gathered around and they clapped quietly when they came to the end.  Startling, she turned toward them and laughing took a quick bow.  At that moment in time, she was simply too happy to care if anyone was filming, or had recognised them.  The small crowd began to disperse, and she turned back to Jackson still sitting on the curb.

“They’ll be wondering who that bum with the star is,” he said.

“You calling me a bum?”

He laughed.  “No, silly.  _I’m_ the bum.”

Her face softening, she leaned forward.  “Let’s give them something to talk about then,” she said and her hands cupping his face gently kissed him on the mouth.

“Oh, I can see the headlines now,” he said, laughing when she pulled back.  “Superstar Ally seen kissing bum in Taco Bell parking lot.”

“You’re not a bum,” she defended.  “You have a home.  Here with me,” she added, tapping the flat of her hand to her heart.  She held her hand out and, taking it, he pushed to his feet.  “Let’s go home.  Charlie’ll be waiting.”

He gave a nod, and draping his arm around her shoulders they headed back to the clinic where the truck was parked.

“I was thinking,” Ally said, as they climbed in.  “Maybe you should go see Dr Cummings today.”

Her question gave him pause.  “Do you think I should?”

“No.  I mean, it’s up to you.”  She paused.  “How do you feel now?”

“Now?” he said, smiling.  “I feel good.  Real good.”

Ally nodded.

“I have a session with him tomorrow,” he went on, putting the key in the ignition.  “I’ll wait until then.” 

Smiling softly, she gave a nod.  He started the engine and put the truck in reverse.  She was putting her seat belt on when he paused from backing out of the spot. 

“I’m sorry I left you alone, you know, with the doctor earlier,” he said with a nod toward the building.

“I told you, it’s okay.”

“Yeah, but what if it hadn’t been okay?  What if there’d been a problem?”

“There wasn’t, so stop stressing over it.”  She squeezed his leg comfortingly.  “Just let it go, Jack.  Let it go.” 

Nodding, he sighed, then looked over his shoulder and continued reversing the truck.  “Home it is, then.”

“Do you mind if we stop by the drugstore on the way?  I need to buy some folate supplement.”

He frowned.  “What’s that?”

“It’s extra vitamins for the baby.  It helps with the healthy development of the brain and spinal cord.  The doctor recommended it.”

Stopping at the stop sign to exit the lot, he turned toward her and smiling trailed his eyes from her face down to her stomach, and then back up.  “Thank you,” he said, his words heartfelt.

She frowned.  “What for?  And don’t say for being me again.”

He laughed.  “For deciding to keep the baby.  For making me the happiest man on Earth.  This,” he said, reaching his hand to her stomach as he held her gaze levelly, “is the best gift you could ever give me.”  His eyes averting hesitantly, he swallowed before chuckling unexpectedly.  “I’m going to be a Daddy.”  He gave his head a shake, then blew out a breath and looked back up with tears in his eyes.  “I just…can’t wrap my head around it, you know?”

“Well,” she said, watching him tenderly, “you got about nine months to get used to the idea before it all becomes very real.”

He gave a solemn nod.  “Nine months,” he repeated musingly.  “Nine months is good.  Nine months is enough time for me to be ready.”

“I’m going to need a lot longer than nine months before I’m ready!” she exclaimed, laughing, “That’s for sure.”

His expression softened lovingly.  “We’ll make sure we’re both ready.  I love you so much,” he went on, choking up, and leaned over to kiss her on the mouth.

The beeping of a horn coming from behind had him pull back from her with a start. 

“Can’t I fucking kiss my wife in peace?” he called back in good-humour. 

A loving smile on his lips, he held her gaze for a long moment, and she took comfort at the fact that his eyes were once again clear, that the shadows of the cravings and urges that tormented his soul in moments of stress and frustration were gone.  When the horn was beeped a second time, Jack sighed and pulling back completely glanced in the rear-view mirror.  

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, raising his hand in apology, while Ally laughed.  “I know I’m half deaf but I fucking heard you.  We’re going.”

He winked at her, then checked both ways and when the road was clear took a left, headed home.  She reached for her purse looking for her songbook, but in her haste to leave the house she’d left it behind.  So all she could do as he drove was to repeat the lyrics to her new song over and over again in her head so she wouldn’t forget them.  It was a good song; one she hoped, in time, she could convince him to record as a duet for her next album.  It would show them – to the outside world, to Rez and their critics – as united and fighting the same cause.  More words came, unbidden and unforced, and she tried committing those to memory.

“ _Don’t let it take your soul_ ,” she said under her breath.

“What was that?” he asked, and she turned toward him with a frown.  “You said something I didn’t…hear.”

Her frown deepening, she gave her head a shake.  “Oh.  It’s nothing.  It’s just—I’ve just got more lyrics come to my head, that’s all,” she said, laughing a little self-consciously.  “And I worry I’m going to forget them.”

He gave a knowing nod.  “It’s a gift, you know,” he went on, turning his attention back to the road.  “Not everyone can write such fucking amazing songs like you can.”

She scoffed.  “ _You_ can.”

He shrugged.  “I could, once upon a time maybe, but now?  Not so much.”  Glancing at her, he waved his hand about his head.  “There’s just too many fucking thoughts in there.  They’re fighting for space.  They’re competing to be heard and right now everything is just a jumbled mess.” 

“You’ll get there,” she said with confidence.

His face pursing musingly, he lapsed into silence, then switched lanes so he could take the next exit off the freeway.  “So,” he went on, brightening up as he joined a line of vehicles waiting at the intersection, “You going to share, or what?”

“Share what?”

“The lyrics!  I like that you write all these songs about me.  About us.  It feeds my ego.”

She burst out laughing.  “Then maybe I should stop sharing.”

He made puppy eyes at her.  “Quit stalling.”

The car in front moved forward and refocusing on the road ahead Jackson followed suit. 

She watched his profile face for a moment, then smiling she closed her eyes and collected her thoughts. 

“ _Don't let it take your soul,”_ she said, turning to look at him, gauging for his response, _  
“Look at me, take control”_

Tears built in her eyes, but she pushed past her pain, past her own anger, and her voice soaring as she stared at him sang, _“We’re going to fight this war  
This is nothing worth dying for…”_

“Fuck, Ally,” he said, panicking when the words died on her lips and she broke into sobs. 

“I’m okay,” she defended, wiping at her eyes.  “I’m okay.  I’m just—”  Overcome by more tears, she stopped short.

Jackson checked his mirrors, then when it was safe to do so pulled up at the side of the road, shifted into neutral and quickly pulled her into his arms.   Closing her eyes against his chest, she wrapped her arms around him and gripped tightly while she cried.  She couldn’t explain what was happening to her, but she could only imagine that the writing of the song where she’d channelled so much emotion had been the catharsis, the trigger for the outpouring of all the pent-up fear and worry of the last few hours.  

“I’m okay,” she said again, pulling back when she had no more tears to cry.  “I’m okay.  Must be the hormones or something,” she tried.

“You’re not okay,” he insisted.  “So, don’t pretend you are.  That’s the worst thing you can do.”  He sighed.  “You’re having to be so strong all the time,” he went on, his head shaking.  “Let me pick you up for once.”

Nodding, she wiped her face and managed a nod and a small smile.  He stared at her tenderly, then opened his arms again and she fell into his embrace.  He closed his arms around her and held her to him tightly while pressing kisses to her hair.

“Better?” he asked, dipping his head to catch her eyes afterwards.

“Much,” she said, grinning.  “Thank you.”

He brushed hair away from her face.  “Ready to go home?”

“Sure.”

“I’m going to cook us some lunch, look after you.”

Her expression softening, she touched her hand to his cheek, feeling the stubble there.  After leaning into her touch, he turned back to the wheel, put the truck in gear and after checking that the coast was clear set off again.  Ally dropped her eyes to her stomach and stroked her hand to it lovingly.

“What about your Dad?” he asked suddenly, refocusing her.  “He must be worried.”

“It’s okay.  I sent him the recording of the baby’s heartbeat.”

Nodding, he lapsed into silence.  “How about we have him around for dinner tonight?”

“Oh, I don’t know.  I don’t want to spoil my good mood talking about my mother.” 

“You don’t have to talk about your mother if you don’t want to.”

“What’s this?” she asked, frowning suspiciously.  “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing.”  He shrugged a little self-consciously.  “I guess I just want to…spread the joy around a little.”

“In that case, Bobby should be there too.” A giddy smile spread across her face.  “We’re going to have a baby!” she said, her voice rising in an excited shriek.  “And now I can’t wait.”

 


	21. Chapter 21

As soon as they were home, Ally headed to the bedroom and retrieved her pen and songbook she took to the bathroom.  Sat on the toilet, she hurriedly jotted down the lyrics to her new song.  The song was special, she could feel it, and she hoped that if—when they sang it as a duet it would become as special to them and their fans as _Shallow_ was.  Musically  _Shallow_ had put her in the limelight.  It had given her the confidence to perform her own songs and music, eventually spearheading a singing career she'd never imagined she could have. 

But the songwas a lot more than a musical success.  It symbolised the beginning of hers and Jackson's journey, their life together, the love and deep connection they shared right from the very first moment they’d laid eyes on each other.  In the song, she’d exposed their vulnerability and opened her heart to a man she’d hardly met, falling in love with him before she’d even realised. 

Emotionally, this new song felt similar.  Maybe it could be what got them singing together again, what put Jack back on track and on the map, spearheading his own return to performing.  Maybe with her by his side he wouldn't find it so daunting to go back out there and face the critics. He’d already agreed to play guitar on _One More Light,_ and she hoped that she could convince him to lend his voice – and his guitar – to that track too.

A soft rap on the door startled her.  “You okay in there?” Jackson asked quietly.

“Sure,” she replied brightly.

“You’ve been there a long time.”

Putting her book down on the floor, Ally stood up from the toilet and pulled her pants up.  “Sorry.  I just got—I’ll be right out.

“Good, ‘cause lunch is almost ready.”

When, finished, she exited in the bathroom, she found Jackson waiting outside the door. 

“You okay?” he asked with evident concern.  “More blood?”

“No, I mean, a little, but no more than before.  Less in fact.” Giving him a wide smile, she raised her songbook to his eye line and stepped past him, headed to the kitchen. “I was just…writing the song down, you know, before I forgot it.” 

“It’s a great song,” he said, following in her wake.

She put her songbook and pen on the kitchen island, then turned toward him and watched him uncertainly.

“What?” he asked, frowning with puzzlement.

“I’ve called the song _A Reason To Fight_ ,” she said, opening the cutlery drawer.

“The Taco Bell song?”

Laughing, she took out two knives and forks and turned toward him.  “Yeah, the Taco Bell song.”

“That’s a great title.  You definitely need to put it out.”  A smile twitched, growing mischievously on his lips.  “My ego wouldn’t stand it if you didn’t.”

“I want us to record it as a duet."

The smile died on his lips.  “What?”

“I want us to record the song as a duet,” she repeated as casually as she could before grabbing two placemats from the pile and taking everything to the table.

“I heard you the first time,” he said, his head shaking.

Turning away, he moved to the fridge and poured them glasses of sweet tea and Ally set the table.  The fact that he hadn’t rejected the idea out of hand boded well, and she was happy to bide her time.  Nothing would happen for months anyway; she’d planted the seed in his mind and would let it germinate.  She watched as Charlie ambled in from outside, headed to his water bowl.  After drinking thirstily, he sat down on his hind legs next to Jackson now busy at the stove, his nostrils twitching at the smell of grilling chicken.

Smiling to herself, she put bread, salad dressing and the two glasses he’d filled on the table.  Jack brought their plates over before returning with two grilled chicken breasts he’d cut into strips and which he shared over green salad with tomato, cucumber and avocado pieces, keeping a little back he gave to Charlie.  

“Wow, thank you, this looks amazing,” she said, sitting down and picking up her fork.  “I’m starving.”  She stabbed a couple of tomato pieces and brought them to her mouth.

“You’re eating for two now,” he said, watching her tenderly, and she stopped mid-chew.

“Oh, I don’t know about that.”  Finishing her mouthful, she loaded more food onto her fork.  “I don’t want to be piling on the pounds.”

“You’ve got a baby growing inside you,” he insisted.  “Sure, you’re going to pile on the pounds.”  Ally pulled a face as she chewed, and laughing Jack began eating too, spearing a strip of chicken and putting it whole into his mouth.  “I’m not saying ‘Yes’,” he went on after a beat, his mouth full, “But I’m not saying ‘No’ either.”

“About the song?”

Popping more food into his mouth, he gave a nod.

Ally’s smile returned.  “That’s good enough for me.  For now,” she added, bringing another forkful of salad to her lips. 

They ate silently for a moment, before Jackson’s face lit up excitedly.  “The pool guy left a copy of the plans this morning,” he said, chewing. “I can talk you through everything afterwards if you want.”

“Did you say they were starting tomorrow?”

He bobbed his head enthusiastically.  “I need to tidy the yard, put stuff away in the garage to make space for the Porta Potty and machinery and stuff.  They’re going to bring some fencing so I can build Charlie a pen, you know, so he can have time outdoors without getting in the way.”

She glanced at Charlie lying in a ray of sunlight on the tile floor.  “Can’t the contractor – I mean his guys – do all that?”

“Sure they can.  But I want to.  Ally, I want to get stuck in.  I’m stoked about the pool—”

“What do you know about building pools?”  Smiling, she picked up a salad leaf with her fingers and brought it to her mouth. 

“Nothing, which is why we have a contractor.  I’m just going to help out, shift stuff, dig.  Whatever.  It’s going to be too noisy anyway for me to do anything – music-wise.  I figure the physical exercise will do me good, and besides it’ll keep me busy for when you’re back out there.”

Her gaze averting, she sighed.  “I wish you hadn’t brought that up.”

“Why not?  It’s exciting.  Ellen’s just the start.  You know that, right?  Rez’ll have a whole schedule lined up for you.  And rightly so, otherwise he wouldn’t be doing his fucking job.”

“A whole schedule based around LA.”

“For starters for sure, but how long do you think that’s going to work?”  Jackson shoved more food into his mouth.  “You can’t just…do gigs in LA, or even just on the West Coast for that matter.  This is a big country.  You got to…spread the word as far and wide as you can.”

A smile formed as she chewed.  “Spread the word, huh?”

He grinned.  “Sure.”

She sighed.  “Only if you come with me.”

He was about to reply when he averted his gaze to his glass and picked it up.  “We’ll see,” he said, downing the rest of his sweet tea.

Shock registered on her face.  “Jack, what the hell?”

“I’ll come if I can, but…” He took her hand holding the fork and squeezed it, “maybe I’ll be busy doing my own stuff by then.”

“Doing your own stuff, like…”  She frowned quizzically.  “Building pools?”

His smile returned, wide and amused.  “No, not building pools.  That’s just short term.”  Sobering, he scratched at the stubble on his cheek.  “Lukas’s left a couple of messages. On my cell.  The band’s getting restless.  I mean, I’m not saying we’re going back on the road, ‘cause I told him we’re not, but maybe in a few weeks we can start to write again and play together, in the studio like, see what happens.”  He paused.  “They really dug that song, Ally.”

“I really dug that song too,” she said, her expression softening tenderly.  “And the other one.  The one about me.”

He laughed.  “They’re both about you.” 

“Then, maybe you could record them.  For me?”

He stabbed his fork in her direction.  “I know what you’re doing,” he said, his head shaking in disbelief.

Laughing, she pushed to her feet, walked around the table to his side and reading her intention he put his fork down and pushed his chair back so she could sit on his lap.  “Oh, you do, do you?” she whispered, lacing her arms around his neck and staring at him lovingly.

He touched his fingertip to her nose, then kissed her lips and with a sigh leaned his head against her chest.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she said into his hair, picking up on his change of mood as she held him to her.  “I didn’t mean to be so…pushy.”

“You’re not.”  He looked up with a smile.  “I appreciate the support. I really do.  And recording a song doesn’t have to mean putting out a record, right?”

“Right,” she said.  “Not if you don’t want to.  It’ll just be doing what you enjoy doing the most.”

He gave a slow nod of agreement.  “So, no pressure.”  His eyes lowered briefly, hesitantly, before they came back up again.  “I want you to promise me that…you’re going to do whatever it takes to finish promoting this album.” 

She sighed.  “You mean, do what Rez wants.”

“No,” he said with a firm shake of the head.  “Not at all.  But don’t dismiss his suggestions out of hand simply because they come from him.  He’s done alright by you so far, even if I don’t like the direction he took you.  I just…don’t want you to jeopardise your work and your career because of me, because you think I wouldn’t cope.”  He held her gaze steadily.  “Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

“Yeah, I do,” she said with a grudging smile.  “I don’t like it, but I understand it.”

His face softened with recognition.  “Your contract with Rez and the record label is only for one album.  You don’t have to renew with either if you don’t want to.  You’ll easily be done by the time the baby comes anyway, then you can do what you want.  Take time off, or start over with the next album.  It’s up to you.” 

Nodding distractedly, she pushed to her feet when he squirmed uncomfortably under her and resumed her place at the table.  She hoped that by the time her second album was ready to be released, he’d be recovered enough to agree to manage her, and if not manage her then maybe agree to tour together.  She had it all planned in her head.  She could open the concert with her solo material, then they’d sing their duets as a transition before he closed the event with his own stuff.  She didn’t mind being his opening act.  That way, they could travel together around the country and around the world as a family.  Her, Jack and the baby. 

“How about Mexican?” he said, drawing her back to the moment.

She refocused on him with a start.  “Mexican?”

“For dinner. Tonight.”

“Oh, okay.  Sure.  Mexican sounds great.”

“I was thinking we could celebrate my victory, you know?  Me not giving in, this morning at Taco Bell.”  Pausing, he put the last of his slice of bread in his mouth.  “That said, I haven’t heard back from Bobby,” he went on musingly.

“He’ll be there,” she said with confidence. 

Smiling, he stood and she watched as he took her pen from the kitchen island and a pad from the drawer.  “If I give you a list of what to buy will you go grocery shopping for me?” 

“Sure.  I still need to get the folate supplement anyway.” 

“That way I can get started on the yard.”

Jackson set to work in the yard as soon as they finished lunch, Charlie following in his wake, leaving Ally to clear up the kitchen.  For a moment as she stood at the window, she watched them interact, Jackson talking to Charlie as he carried stuff back and forth to the garage while Charlie trailed him like his shadow.  The smile lingering on her lips, she imagined him playing with their child in that same yard, maybe pushing him – or her – on a swing or on the zip line, or building dens with Charlie like Lukas’s boys had done during the barbecue, or even a tree house. 

Jackson looked up suddenly.  Their eyes met and he smiled softly.  Smiling back, she raised her hand in a small wave.  He motioned for her to come out, and she lifted her finger, indicating that she would, soon.  She finished tidying the kitchen, then joined her boys outside, taking with her a bottle of water from the fridge and the plans for the pool Jack had left on the kitchen island.  It was hot outside.  Jack had taken off his T-shirt, and he accepted the water gratefully.  They sat down on the couch in the shade and, while Charlie rummaged in the shrubs and bushes nearby, Jack talked her through the plans.

It was so heart-warming to see him happy and excited again and with a purpose, especially after the events of the morning.  She never thought in a million years that she’d reach a point in her life when money wasn’t an issue anymore, when it certainly didn’t matter as much as their mental wellbeing.  She had suggested they had a pool built without batting an eyelid, simply because she believed it would be good for Jackson and his recovery.  They could afford it.  Jackson definitely could, not so much through careful money managing on his part, but because of Bobby’s careful investments, but now she had enough money of her own that she could too.  It was just mind-blowing, and some mornings she still woke up and pinched herself.

 

Ally parked the truck outside the garage and carried the bags of groceries over to the kitchen, setting them down on the table.  A fairly large package was waiting there and when she checked she saw that it was from Rez’s management company.  She lifted the box, it was light for the size, and shook it.  Whatever it was, she didn’t need right now, and so she put the package down again, opting instead to stow the frozen food she’d bought in the freezer before it defrosted entirely. 

The house was quiet, and after grabbing a bottle of water for her and a Bavaria booze-free beer for Jackson from the fridge, and her trusted packet of saltines, she lowered her sunglasses from the top of her head and made her way outside.  Jack was half-lying, half-sitting on the couch with Charlie tucked in his side, and she smiled.  While she was gone, he’d cleared the yard of every item except for the couch itself, which presumably was too heavy for him to shift on his own.  She was going to call out to him when she realised that he’d dozed off. 

“Shh,” she told Charlie in a whisper when he looked up, “Don’t move or you’ll wake Daddy.”

 Charlie cocked his head to the side, then looking over at Jack stood up, shook himself and jumped off the couch to greet her. 

“Sorry,” Jackson said, stretching his back as he roused.  “I only meant to shut my eyes for a minute.”

He straightened up, then patted the space beside him Charlie had vacated and after they kissed she held out the alcohol-free beer to him and sat down.  He twisted the cap off, took a long swig and wiped the sweat from his brow. 

“Thank you,” he said.  “I needed that.”

“I can help you shift the couch if you want,” she said, smiling as she offered him a saltine.  “When you’re done resting?”

“When I’m done resting?” he exclaimed in disbelief.

Smiling at him sweetly, she took a bite of her cracker and after grabbing a couple from the packet he did the same.

“Thank you, but I don’t think so,” he said, chewing quickly.  “I’ll get your Dad, or Bobby to help me later.” 

Her expression darkened.  “Jack, being pregnant doesn’t stop me from doing all the things I’d normally do.”

“I’m sure that’s true.  But when’s the last time you shifted a couch, huh?” he countered, swiftly adding before she could retort, “But what I’d really like is a dip in the pool.  I’ve been thinking of nothing else since I started.”

“You okay?” she asked, immediately concerned.  “Are the cravings back?”

“No,” he said, laughing as he took another sip of beer.  “It’s just too fucking hot for manual labour.  Even in the shade.”

She cocked a brow.  “What happened to…helping out, shifting stuff, digging?”

He winced.  “Too much like hard work.  By the way, a package came for you.  I left it on the table. It’s from Rez.”

“I saw.”  Shrugging, she finished her water.  “I’ll open it later.”

“Hello? Anyone home?” Lorenzo called, rounding the corner into the yard.

“Dad!” Ally exclaimed, springing to her feet.  “You’re early.  Like way early!”

Lorenzo’s shoulder lifted in a shrug.  “I wasn’t doing anything and well, you know, I couldn’t wait to see you.  Congratulate you and Jackson in person.”  Pausing, he took Ally in his arms and they embraced warmly.  Jackson stood up, and Lorenzo moved to hug him too.  Jackson caught Ally’s eye, and she smiled tenderly.

“So, how are you, sweetheart?” Lorenzo asked, pulling back.

“I’m okay.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “And the baby is too.  You heard for yourself.”

“I did,” he said, his expression softening.  “I did.”  He turned toward Jackson.  “Wasn’t that just the sweetest sound?”

His smile stiffening, Jackson gave a nod.

“Like I said on the phone,” Ally went on, guessing that her father’s words had reminded Jack of that morning’s events, “it was a false alarm.  I feel so foolish now.”

“It’s best to be sure.”

Glancing at Jack, she gave a nod. 

“Does it mean—” Lorenzo’s eyes widened as they went from Ally to Jack and then back to Ally, “Does it mean what I think it means?”

Grinning, Ally nodded.  “You’re going to be a grandfather!”

Lorenzo brought a closed fist to his mouth.  “Oh, wow, sweetie.”  He wiped a quick knuckle under his right eye.  “I never thought that day would come.”

“Dad—” she protested.  “Don’t cry, or you’ll make _me_ cry.”

Lorenzo glanced at Jackson.  “I’m not crying.  I just got a little dust in my eye.”

She watched her father with affection.  “Hard to believe, huh?”

“No, sweetheart.  It’s not hard to believe at all.  You’re going to make a wonderful mother.”

Her smile faded.  “Yeah, well, I hope so.”

“You will,” Jackson said, draping his arm around her shoulder comfortingly.

“And you, Jack,” Lorenzo went on, clapping Jackson on the shoulder, “You must be over the moon.”

Jack’s smile returned.  “I am,” he said, before repeating quietly as he turned to look at Ally, “I really am.”

Tears of joy welled in her eyes at the sincerity of his words, and glancing at her father she wiped at them self-consciously.  “See? Now, _I’m_ crying.”

“It’s the hormones,” Lorenzo said as an aside to Jackson.

“Like you'd know anything about that,” Ally retorted with a pout.

“Anyways,” Jackson cut in, smiling as he turned toward Lorenzo, “You couldn’t have timed it better actually.  I need someone to help me shift the couch.”

“And he won’t let me help,” she said.

“Too right, he won’t,” Lorenzo concurred, “In your condition?”  She opened her mouth, ready to protest, when her father smiled and winked at her.  Her head shaking in disbelief, she watched as he turned back to Jackson. “So what’s happening here, huh?” 

“Work’s starting on the pool tomorrow," Jackson replied.  "You want to see the plans?”

Lorenzo’s face lit up with excitement.  “Hell yeah.”

Jackson put his beer down on the ground by the foot of the couch, then picked up the plans and Lorenzo moved closer to take a look.

“You want a drink, Dad?” Ally asked, heading up the path toward the kitchen.

“I’ll have the same as Jack, thanks.”

She was putting the groceries away in the fridge when she heard approaching voices before Jackson and her father came into the kitchen.  She reached for an alcohol-free beer and handed it over to her father.

“I’m going to go grab a shower,” Jackson said, giving her a one-handed hug.  The way he held her gaze as he walked away made his subtext very clear.  He was deliberately giving her and her father a little time alone so they could talk.  She wasn’t sure she was in the mood for what he had in mind.

“This pool’s going to mean a lot of disruption,” Lorenzo said, refocusing her. 

“It will,” she said, smiling.  “But it’s only for twelve weeks.  It’ll be worth it in the end. I’m just…not looking forward to cleaning the house afterwards.”

“Then get a cleaner.  If you can afford a swimming pool then surely you can afford a cleaner, especially in your condition.”  Before she could phrase her objection, he added, “But I was thinking more about the noise, and how either of you will manage to…make music.”  Beer in hand, Lorenzo took a seat at the table.  “You know you and Jackson can always come and stay with me, right?”

Her face lit up with amusement as she recalled Jackson's reaction when she'd suggested the same thing.  “I know.  Thank you.  We’ll see how it goes.”  She reached for the packets of saltine crackers form the grocery bag and put them away.  “Did Jack tell you that I’m going to be on The Ellen Show?” she said matter-of-fact, straightening up.

“ _The_ The Ellen Show?” Lorenzo exclaimed with evident disbelief, but joy and pride too. 

Ally nodded her head. 

“No, he didn’t say,” he went on, chuckling, “When?”

“Tuesday after next.”

“Oh, my, Ally.”  Lorenzo stood, then covered the distance to her and two big hands cupping her face planted a right smacker on her cheek.  “You make this old man so proud.”  He paused in his tracks suddenly.  “That’s like recorded in front of a live audience, right?”

“It is,” she replied. “I’m going to sing _The Cure_ and then do a short interview.”

“You think you can get me tickets to come watch?  I mean, for me and the guys?”

She registered a look of surprise.  Four old men hardly qualified for Ellen’s typical audience.  “How about work?  The show tapes during the day.  You can’t all miss work.”

“Fuck work, Ally.  This is you on The Ellen Show, here in LA!  And I can be there for once, watching you sing live!  Not watching on the YouTube.”

“I’ve sung _live_ to you plenty of times.”

“You know what I mean.”

Speechless, Ally opened her mouth, only to shut it again.  “Sure, why not?” she then said, laughing in disbelief.  “I’ll see what I can do.”

“That’s my girl,” Lorenzo said, grinning with pleasure.  “Wait till I tell the guys!  They’re going to be so excited.”

“Talking of the guys.  Have you…told them about the pregnancy?”

He paused.  “No.  Not until I knew for sure, you know, what your plans were, regarding the baby.”

“Do you think you could…keep the secret a while longer?  From the guys too?”

“Sure,” Lorenzo said, frowning.  “But why?”  His expression turned fearful.  “You’re not going to change your mind, are you?”

“No, no.  It’s just…it’s early days yet and risks of a miscarriage are still high and I don’t want the news to leak out, you know.”

Nodding understandingly, Lorenzo pretended to zip his mouth shut and throw away the key.  “I won’t breathe a word to anyone.  Not until you give me the go-ahead.”

“Thanks.”  She walked over to the couch and retrieved the sonogram of the baby from her purse to show him.

“Is that a photo of my grandson?” he asked excitedly, creeping up behind her.

She smiled.  “Or your granddaughter.”

“I think it’s a boy,” he said confidently, staring at the picture. 

“You sound very sure of yourself.  You want to put money where your mouth is?”

Lorenzo laughed.  “I tell you what.  You’re on.”  He put his beer down on the coffee table then took a seat on the couch and still looking at the sonogram Ally sat down beside him.  “What changed your mind?” he then asked quietly, “About keeping the baby.”

Ally didn’t answer immediately.  She just stared at the sonogram for long second before looking up with a sad smile.  “The fear of losing it,” she replied.  “It felt like I was losing a part of myself, and there was nothing I could do to stop it from happening.”  Tears brimmed in her eyes at the recollection, and she smiled through them.  “And this baby…it is a part of me, isn’t it?”

“And of Jackson too.”

She nodded her head softly.  “I guess until this morning the pregnancy didn’t feel…real.  It’s like…I didn’t feel connected to the baby.”  Her eyes averting to the sonogram, she shrugged.  “I don’t know.  It’s hard to put into words.”

“Maybe you can put it in a song, no?”

Her smile returned.  “Maybe.”

“We couldn’t afford an ultrasound when your mother was expecting you,” Lorenzo went on, his voice distant now, introspective, and Ally looked up.  “It wasn’t routine then and the doctor didn’t think your mother needed one.”  His smile was sad as he spoke.  “We didn’t get to see you until you were born.  Maybe if we had, it would have been different.”

“I don’t think so,” Ally said, quite categorically.

“Look how you’ve bonded with the baby already,” Lorenzo argued.  “It’s already different for you.  I can tell.”  He sighed.  “Your mother, she wasn’t strong like you are.  There were days she didn’t get out of bed – and that’s before she was expecting you.  I’d go to work in the morning and come back in the evening and she hadn’t moved.”

Ally frowned.  “You mean, she was already depressed before I was born?”

Lorenzo flicked his gaze away.  “I guess so.  I mean, we didn’t know that at the time.  It was just…the way she was.  We didn’t know about mental illness then, we didn’t understand it, not like we do now.  It wasn’t spoken about either.  It was something you were ashamed of and kept secret.”  He paused. “Her condition didn’t worsen until after you were born – and then they called it postpartum depression.  They said it was the hormones, you know, making her feel tired, making her feel low.  They said to wait, that would all go back to normal in time.  Except—”

“It never did,” she finished for him when he faltered.

He gave a slow nod.  “It just gradually got worse and worse, until she became psychotic and the woman you remember.  I tried helping her but…”

“I know you did,” Ally said, reaching for his hand and giving it a warm squeeze when he became emotional.  “I know you did.  I remember what it was like – what she was like.  I’m sorry I’m bringing all this pain back for you.  I know it isn’t your fault she left.”

Lorenzo smiled sadly.  “And it isn’t yours either.”

Ally gave a grudging nod.  "You said—"  Pausing, she took a breath.  "The other night, when we came home for dinner and you showed Jack the picture album."

Nodding, Lorenzo looked away.

"You said that—that there was a lot I didn't know about her.  What did you mean by that?"

"It doesn't matter," Lorenzo tried, forcing a smile.  "It all happened a long time ago now.  I shouldn't have said anything."

Ally swallowed.  "Dad?  Please, talk to me, I need to know.  I need to know the truth."

Lorenzo didn't answer for a long moment, but when he did his voice was quiet and pained.  "You know how she...she had a few stays at the psychiatric hospital, right?"

Frowning, Ally gave a nod.

Lorenzo sighed.  "It was because of the pills she took."

"The pills?  You mean, her medication."

He nodded.  "Sometimes, she didn't take it at all.  But other times, she took too much."

"She overdosed?"

With a hard swallow, Lorenzo nodded his head.  "I don't think she meant to but..."  He let his words trail, and right then she was too stunned for words to be of any comfort to him.  "I'm sorry, sweetie," he went on, tearing up, and she glanced up, "For never telling you the truth.  It's just...you were so young when it happened and then...time passed and—"

"It's okay, Dad.  It's not your fault."

"Your mother, she didn't know what she was doing."

"It's okay," she repeated numbly.  

Mustering a smile, Lorenzo draped his arm around her shoulders and she leaned her head against him.  "You're so strong," he said again, tugging her to him. "So much stronger than me, or your mother ever was."

She thought back to Dr Stanislas asking if her mother’s history of depression dated from before she was born, and she wondered now whether the fact that it did was an important factor.  Charlie wandered in, had a drink of water from his bowl, then jumped up onto the couch and nestled in her side.  She lowered her hand to him and automatically began stroking his shaggy fur, making a mental note of the fact that it needed brushing. 

“I wonder what she’s doing now,” she mused.  “Mom, I mean.  Do you think she thinks of us?”

Surprise registered on Lorenzo’s face.  “I’m sure she does, sweetie.”

Ally pondered that for a while.  “Do you think she got better after all these years?”

“I don’t know,” Lorenzo replied after some consideration.  “But I really hope so.  I really hope she did.  No one deserves to be unhappy like your mother was.”  He paused.  “Did…did you ask your doctor about it?  I mean, for you?”

“I did, yeah.”

“And what did she say?”

“She doesn’t believe that postpartum depression is inherited, but rather that the cycle can repeat because unconsciously I could be copying her behaviour.”  She frowned.  “I think that's what she said anyway.”

“I know what to look out for,” Lorenzo said, “and believe me when I say I’m going to watch you like a hawk.”

Ally scoffed.  “That’s what Jack said."

“What happened to your mother won’t happen to you, Ally.  Your mother, she was alone.” 

“She had you.  And me,” she added, somewhat sadly.  "We just weren't enough."

“She was sick.  Sicker than anyone knew for a long time.  But having you didn’t _make_ her sick.  You know that, right?  It was just…what brought it all to the surface.  And that’s the God’s honest truth, Ally.” 

Ally gave a nod, then closed her eyes.  Tightening his hold on her shoulders, Lorenzo pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she snuggled up closer to him.  It reminded her of the times after her mother had left and they'd turned to each other for comfort.  Lorenzo was right; she wasn't her mother and their situations were very different.  Jack had suggested they tracked her down, and the more she thought about it now the more she thought they should.  It would be painful, but it would give her, and her father, the closure they'd never had.

 “So,” Lorenzo went on, his tone light once again, “how long until we know for sure you’re expecting a boy?” 

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

When Jackson joined Ally and Lorenzo in the living room, he was on his cell winding up his conversation.  His hair was still wet from his shower, slicked back from his freshly-shaven face, and he’d put on a pair of clean blue jeans, the white linen shirt she’d got him as a present for his last birthday and a pair of brown leather flip flops she’d never seen him wear before but which made her smile.  He’d spent a lot of time outdoors in the last few days and the whiteness of the shirt emphasised his bronzed skin and broad shoulders.  He looked good, relaxed and happy in his skin, and she hoped it would last. 

Dropping down onto the second couch, he ended the call, tossed the cell on the coffee table and sat back with his legs stretched out in front of him.  “You were right,” he told Ally, smiling, “Bobby’s coming.  He’s on his way over now.  He was in Bakersfield.”

“I told you,” she said, and he acknowledged her words with a nod. He held her gaze probingly, inquiringly, for a moment and she knew he was asking how her talk with Lorenzo had gone.  Glancing at her father, she gave Jackson what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Did Ally mention she’s going to be on Ellen?” he went on, grinning as he addressed Lorenzo.

“She did,” Lorenzo replied, turning proudly toward her daughter.  “And she’s going to get me and the guys tickets to come watch, aren’t you, sweetie?”

“I’m going to try,” Ally said, giggling.  “But that’s a lot of tickets.”

Jackson laughed.  “We’ll make sure you sit front-row — with Ramon.  Won’t be an issue at all.”

“Thank you, Jackson.  You’ll be there then?”

Jackson had a moment’s pause before he looked over at Ally and nodded his head.  “I’ll be there,” he said, adding quickly, “but not in the audience.”

Ally’s face lit up with excitement and disbelief alike.  “You’re going to come?”

Jackson gave a quiet nod of the head.  “I’ll stay backstage.  And no,” he said, lifting a finger toward her when she opened her mouth with a question, “I’m not going to sing, or play – or talk.  It’s about you.  This is your return to the limelight.  I’ll just come as your husband.  For support.”

A wide smile on her face, Ally sprung to her feet before bounding over to sit on his lap.  “Thank you,” she said, slipping her hands around his neck as she closed the gap between them and kissed his lips.

Hands on her hips, he was watching her tenderly when she pulled back.  “You’re welcome.”

Lorenzo cleared his throat not so subtly, and laughing she turned toward him.  Charlie jumped up onto the couch, demanding a little loving too, and taking him in her arms she got up off Jack’s lap.

“I’m afraid you can’t come,” she told Charlie, turning down the corners of her mouth in a sad pout.  “Or can he?”

“No,” Jackson said firmly, laughing.  “He can’t.”

“You heard that, Charlie?” Ally cooed sadly.  “Daddy said you can’t come, but I’ll get you a nice juicy steak.  How about that, huh?”

“I swear to God,” Lorenzo said, his head shaking, “That dog eats better than I do.”

“Well, not tonight,” Jackson said, rolling up his sleeves as he pushed to his feet, headed to the kitchen, and then looking at Ally, “I’m going to make a start on dinner.”

Charlie scrambled out of Ally’s arms at the mention of dinner and followed in his wake. 

“You like Mexican food, right, Lorenzo?”  Opening the fridge door, Jackson looked over at Ally questioningly.  “I never thought to check.”

“Sure I like Mexican food,” Lorenzo said, standing up.  “Who doesn’t?”  Joining Jackson at the fridge, he clasped his son-in-law’s shoulder warmly.  “I’ll help.”

His eyes widening in alarm, Jackson glanced at Ally, and her shoulders lifting in a helpless shrug, she smiled.

“I’ll help too,” she added.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Lorenzo said.  “We got it covered, don’t we, Jackson?   You go get changed or take a bath or put your feet up or whatever it is you want to do while Jackson and I cook you dinner.  How about that, huh?”

She looked over to Jackson who nodded his head and her smile widening she turned back to her father.  “Ok-ay,” she sing-sang happily.

“Maybe you want to put an apron on or something,” Lorenzo told Jackson, “or your shirt won’t stay white for long.”

Jackson rolled his eyes behind Lorenzo’s back and pinching her lips to stop from laughing she left them to it and went to the bathroom to run herself a bath.  She began to undress, but suddenly worried that pregnant women shouldn’t take baths she shut off the faucets and took a shower instead.  There was so much she didn’t know about being pregnant, and she decided then that she would buy herself a proper book and read up about it so she knew what to expect at every stage and be ready.  

As she stood under the warm spray, she put the flat of her hand against her stomach and smiling as she closed her eyes listened to her baby’s heartbeat in her head.  She couldn’t hear it of course, not really, but hearing it once during the ultrasound had been enough. It was as much a part of her now as her own heartbeat.  Her father was right; it was the sweetest sound, sweeter than any song she – or Jackson – could ever write or sing.  She thought of her mother then, and whether she’d felt the same way about her own baby growing inside her, hoped with all her heart that she did. 

Wrapped in her robe, she ran a comb through her wet hair and padded to the bedroom.  Suddenly exhausted, she dropped down onto the edge of the bed before climbing on, curling up with her head on her pillow and closing her eyes.  A warm blanket of calm and peace enveloped her and she was asleep in an instant.

“Ally.” 

A light shake of her shoulder had her wake with a start and she opened her eyes, for a moment dazed and disoriented. 

“Sorry,” Jackson said in a whisper, a soft, sheepish smile on his face, as sitting on the edge of the bed he touched his hand to her cheek.  “Bobby called.  He’ll be here in five minutes.” 

Rubbing at her face, she gave him a nod and a wan smile and made to sit up.

“You okay?” he asked, concerned now. 

“Sure.  Sorry.” 

“You’re not feeling unwell, are you?”

She gave her head a shake.  “No, just tired.  I don’t know what came over me just then.”

He watched her tenderly.  “I mean, no one’ll mind if you want to…you know…sit the meal out.”

“No, no, I’m good.”  Sitting up fully, she forced a wider smile.

“Must be the hormones, huh?”  The smile lingering on his face, he reached out his hand and lightly stroked her bare leg.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“I—I don’t know,” he said, looking up.  “But you’ve been gone just under an hour maybe?”

She ran a hand through her matted hair and sighed.  “Everything okay with my dad?”

A smile spread on Jackson’s face.  “We’re both still in one piece if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You know what he’s like in the kitchen.”

“I do now, but it’s fine, don’t worry about it.  I think I taught him a thing or two.”

Smiling, he leaned forward to kiss her lips and, when he stood up, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed.  “I’ll just be five minutes, okay?”

“Sure.  Take your time.  We’re not going anywhere.”

She put on a pair of comfortable pants and a plaid shirt, pulled her hair up in a high ponytail and made her way to the kitchen.  Delicious smells of Mexican food drifted up to her and, moving to the stove, she peeked under a couple of lids and lifted a brow, impressed, suddenly hungry.  A plate of flour tortillas was waiting, ready to be warmed up and made into wraps.  Bowls of mixed salad, guacamole, sour cream and grated cheese were laid out on the table, which had been set for four, paper napkins and all.  Mariachi music played quietly in the background.  Jack and her father hadn’t done things in half.

Stepping over Charlie dozing in the shade by the door, she joined Jackson and her dad on the patio.  “You’ve been busy,” she said when they fell silent, smiling as she snaked her arm around Jackson’s waist and leaned into him.  “Smells delicious.”

“Jackson said you fell asleep,” Lorenzo said, with evident concern.

Her smile fell. “Dad, please, don’t start. I’m fine.  I _just_ fell asleep.”

“Lorenzo, another drink?” Jackson asked, and she knew he was changing tack quite deliberately.

“Sure,” Lorenzo said, refocusing on Jackson with a smile, but not before giving Ally a long look that told her that regardless of her protestations he’d be watching her closely.  She was grateful for his care and solicitude, of course she was, but she worried that if she wasn’t careful it would turn to overprotection. 

“Ally?” Jackson said, and when she turned a blank expression toward him, “Drink?”

“I’ll have an iced tea,” she said, relaxing again, “thanks.”

Jackson moved indoors, then returned with an alcoholic-free beer for Lorenzo and a tall glass of iced tea for Ally.  “Unless you’d prefer something else?” he asked Lorenzo, handing the drinks over.

“No, no, the booze-free beer’s fine.  It’s not so bad once you get used to it.”  Lorenzo wiped his finger to the condensation on the bottle, then twisted the cap off and raised the bottle in a toast to Ally and then to Jackson, who’d gone back inside for his.  “To the soon-to-be-parents,” he said, smiling widely.

“Maybe we should wait for Bobby,” Ally said.

Jackson’s face lit up suddenly as he looked up to a point beyond her shoulder.  “Talk of the devil,” he said, laughing loudly as he refocused on her with a twinkle in his eyes. 

Charlie got up from the tile floor and tail beating went to investigate. 

“Oh, my God, Bobby!” she squealed, her face brightening at the sight of a huge bouquet of colourful flowers walking down the path toward her.  “Is that you?”

“It’s me,” Bobby said, poking his head out from behind the bouquet.  “It’s too much, isn’t it?”

“No,” Ally said, gladly taking the proffered flowers from him, “they’re beautiful.”  And then as she inhaled their scent deeply, “Thank you.”

“Congratulations,” he then said, watching her fondly as he leaned down to kiss her cheek, adding when he pulled back, “I got this too.”  Shrugging a little diffidently, he took out, from his jacket pocket, a medium-sized light-brown fluffy bunny rabbit with a label that said by Jellycat of London.  “I don’t know if I’m jumping the gun a little, but well, I saw it and couldn’t resist.”

Ally looked up from the gift with tears in her eyes.  “Thank you.”

“It’s non-gender specific,” Bobby said, a little self-consciously.  “I mean…I hope that’s what the woman at the store said anyway, but well, I’m real happy for you.  Both of you,” he added, turning toward Jack and clasping him warmly on the shoulder.  “Truly.”

“Thank you,” Jackson said with a nod and a meaningful look at his brother, clearly moved by the gesture, and took the bunny rabbit from him.  “I’ll cuddle up to it every night.” 

His eyes darting around his audience, Bobby gave a quiet, uncertain laugh, and Jackson pulled his brother to him for a heartfelt hug.  Ally caught her father’s eye and smiled at him tenderly.

“Oh, my, I feel bad now,” Lorenzo said, his tone light and playful when Jackson and Bobby pulled apart.  “I haven’t got you or the baby anything.  Let alone Jackson!”

“Don’t worry about it, Dad,” Ally said, laughing.  Turning back to Bobby, she pushed on her tiptoes and brushed her lips to his cheek.  “Thank you.  That’s real sweet of you.”

“You want a drink?” Jackson asked his brother.

“Hell yeah.  That trip back from Bakersfield was hell.”

“Booze-free beer or iced tea?  Sorry, but we don’t have anything stronger.”

Bobby registered a look of surprise.  “Jack—don’t apologise.”  He sighed.  “Iced tea’d be great, thanks.”

Jackson went indoors, and after exchanging a puzzled look with Bobby Ally followed suit.  “You okay?” she asked, putting the flowers aside while he took out the bottle of iced tea from the fridge. 

“Sure, sorry.”  Giving his head a shake, he let the fridge door shut and keeping his back to her reached for a clean glass from the cabinet.  “I—I just…champagne, that’s what we should be drinking, not fucking iced tea.”

“Hey, hey,” she said, wrapping her arms around him from behind and leaning her head against his back.  “No one minds, or cares that we’re not drinking fucking champagne.  I don’t even like the stuff.”

With a sigh, he turned around in her arms.

“Couldn’t drink any either, even if I did like it,” she went on, smiling softly, “Right?” 

He let out a long steadying breath. “Right.”

“Come on.”  Still somewhat alarmed by his sudden mood swing, she glanced toward the sliding doors.  “Tonight’s a happy night.  All the people we love together to celebrate our good news.  Nothing more.”

He gave a slow nod.  “I know, I'm sorry.  Shame Ramon couldn’t make it,” he then said, perking up, adding when she narrowed her gaze at him, “No, I mean it, I swear.  He’s growing on me.”

Ramon was working and missing out on the celebrations, but she’d messaged him a photo of the sonogram and told him the good news, and they’d agreed to meet the next day for a celebratory lunch while Jackson went to his therapy session. 

“Take Bobby his drink while I put the flowers in water,” she said, when he’d finished pouring the glass.  “Hey, why don’t you tell him about the pool?”

Pausing, he watched her solemnly.  “I love you, you know that, right?” he said, bringing his hands up to frame her face, and moved in for a kiss.

While Jackson went back outside, Ally took the flowers to the sink and remembering Jackson didn’t own a proper vase separated the flowers into two bunches she displayed in terracotta water jugs, putting one on the table and the other on the kitchen island.   The bunny rabbit that Jackson had put there caught her eye and smiling she stroked her hand to it before propping it up against the jug. 

“You’ve gone to a lot of trouble,” Bobby said with a soft smile, as a short while later they sat down at the table and Jackson brought over a pan of three bean chilli and the plate of warm tortillas. 

Shrugging, Jackson sat down.  “It’s…no trouble, and besides Lorenzo helped.”  Smiling, he flicked his gaze from Bobby to Lorenzo and back again.  “It’s…just, well, we wanted to celebrate our happy news but I also…wanted to show my gratitude to you both for your support to me and Ally, you know,” he added a little hesitantly, and Ally reached over to squeeze his hand on his lap. 

Bobby patted his hand to his brother’s shoulder.  “Any time, buddy, you know that.”

“I couldn’t do it on my own.”

“Well, then, it’s lucky you’re not alone,” Lorenzo said cheerfully.

Glancing at Ally, Jackson smiled and nodded his head. 

“So, can we eat now?” Lorenzo went on, opening his napkin and fixing it to the open collar of his polo shirt.  “I’m hungry.”

Everyone laughed, and when Ally put a tortilla on her plate and began putting food onto it the men followed suit.  The meal tasted as good as it smelled, and Ally was glad to see everyone eating with gusto. The conversation flowed seamlessly from one topic to the next until they started talking sport and Ally tuned out.  Her father stood up suddenly, refocusing her, and pulling the napkin from his shirt excused himself to go to the bathroom.  Jackson stood too and made everyone fresh drinks.

“You’re alright?” Bobby asked her softly across the table.  “You seem a little…out of it.”

Ally smiled.  “I’m just a little tired.”

Bobby nodded.  “So everything’s good with the baby?”

“Everything’s good.”  Her smile widening, she pushed to her feet, retrieved the sonogram from the coffee table and showed it to Bobby.  “This dark blob there,” she said, pointing, “is the baby.”

“That’s the baby?” Bobby exclaimed with surprise.

“That’s the baby,” Jackson said, beaming proudly as he brought the drinks over.  “It’s about the size of a lentil, the doc said, didn’t she, Ally?”

Ally nodded her head, then picked up Jackson’s and Bobby’s dirty plates and took them to the sink, smiling at her father as he returned. 

“And next week it’ll be the size of a blueberry,” Jackson continued, catching Ally’s eye as he spoke. 

“Is that true?” Lorenzo asked, amazed as he resumed his seat at the table.

Jackson bobbed his head enthusiastically.  “I looked it up.  The baby’s growing about a millimetre a day.”  He turned to smile at Ally, who was busy clearing hers and her father’s plates.  “It’s fucking amazing thinking about what’s happening in there,” he said, gently brushing his hand to her stomach.

Ally held his gaze and, for a moment, as they stared at one another it was just the two of them in the room. 

“So,” Bobby said, breaking the spell, “I’ve been looking into our trip, you know, planning the hikes and stuff.  And the trail I thought we’d walk has disappeared.”

Lorenzo stood to help Ally with the rest of the dishes, putting them on the island, while Ally took her load to the sink.

“Disappeared?” Jackson exclaimed, frowning.

“Completely washed away in last year’s fucking storms, loosened boulders on the canyon walls increasing further hazards of landslide, so they’re keeping it shut.  It’s impassable.”

“So what do we do?” Jackson asked, sounding disappointed, and Ally threw a worried look in his direction.  “You want to try some place else?”

“Well, there’s another trail.  Further on.  It’s just a lot steeper to the top.”

Jackson shrugged.  “I’m game if you are.  We can take it slow.”

Lorenzo turned a puzzled expression to Ally.  “They're planning a camping trip to Point Mugu for in a couple of weeks,” Ally said quietly.  “It’s North of here, along the coast.” 

“Oh, yeah? That’s nice,” Lorenzo said, smiling.

Turning toward the pair, Jackson nodded.  “Bobby used to take me there once or twice a year when we were kids—”

“Well,” Bobby chipped in, chuckling, “ _You_ were a kid.  I was an old man already.”

Bobby winked at his brother, and the way Jackson grinned back at him while slowly shaking his head told Ally there was more to the long-standing joke than she knew.  Jackson scraped his chair back, then patted his lap and smiling Ally sat down on it, leaning her head back against his shoulder when he closed an arm around her waist.  “You could…come too, if you want,” he then said, addressing Lorenzo who was sitting back down at the table, before glancing at Bobby hesitantly.

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” Lorenzo replied easily.  “I can’t take the time off.  But thank you, Jackson.  I appreciate the offer.”  He laughed.  “Could have been like the bachelor party you never had before you and Ally got hitched.  You know, like in _The Hangover?”_   Met with blank stares, Lorenzo added, “The movie?”  He gave his head a shake.  “Anyways, I’m just happy to be able to watch my little girl sing on Ellen.”

Bobby frowned.  “You’re going on Ellen?” he asked Ally, and then his eyes flicking to his brother in disbelief, “You never said anything.”

Looking at Jackson, Ally smiled brightly.  “The show’s taping a week on Tuesday.”

“You want a ticket to come watch too?” Jackson asked, laughing.

Bobby’s frown deepened.  “Thank you, but no.  I’ll be too busy packing and resting for this…trip of ours.  I’ll make sure to tape it though when it’s on television.”

Ally pinched her lips to stifle her smile.  “You know what?” she said, and standing went to sit at the piano.  “You can all have a sneak peek right now.”

As soon as she played the song’s final note, her father and Bobby were on their feet, clapping.  Standing, she gave them a little bow and met Jackson’s smiley eyes.  He winked at her, and her head shaking she got the ice cream out of the freezer and they had dessert.  Once again the conversation flowed, everyone happily joking and laughing, saying how wonderful she would be on Ellen. She prayed they were right.

Not long after Bobby and Lorenzo left, Jack took Charlie on a short walk while Ally got ready for bed.  In the bedroom, she pulled the curtains shut, then turned the bedside light on and got undressed.  Wearing her favourite pyjamas, she slipped into bed and sitting up against the headboard reached for her cell and typed in the words _7 weeks pregnant_ and _what to expect_. 

Would the baby really be the size of a blueberry by then, she wondered?  Jackson said he’d looked it up, and it warmed her heart to think that he’d done that, that he was taking an interest and looking forward to seeing the baby grow as much as she was. A smile softened her features as she began to read about the changes her body was undergoing and the many pregnancy symptoms she should continue experiencing – good and bad.  Knowing what to expect made everything less daunting somehow.

Charlie jumped up onto the end of the bed, heralding their return, and she looked up from her cell.  “Did you know that right now the baby has a tail?” she called when she heard water running in the bathroom.

“A tail?” came Jackson’s muffled reply.

“Huh, huh.  But it’s disappearing.”

“I fucking hope so.” 

Laughing, she watched as toothbrush in hand Jackson came into the bedroom.

“It also says that the baby’s head and face are developing and his hands and feet are sprouting.”

“God,” he said, pulling a face as he started to brush his teeth.  “What else does it say?”

“That my boobs are growing bigger already.”

Grinning cheekily as he waggled his brow suggestively, he lowered his gaze to her chest and continued brushing before going back to the bathroom to spit and rinse.  A wide smile on her lips, she put her cell away, and returning Jackson quickly stripped to his shorts and jumped into bed.  She pulled the band out of her ponytail and lay down onto her side toward him.  Propping himself up, he smiled, then leaned forward and kissed her lips.

“I had a good night tonight,” he said, pulling back.

“Me too.”

His smile widening, he reached up his hand and trailed a fingertip over the curve of one of her breasts over her T-shirt.  “How does it feel to be pregnant?” he then asked in a whisper, looking back up.  “And I’m not talking about the nausea and sickness, or your growing boobs and waistline.  Just…what is it like to have a life growing inside you?”

Ally opened her mouth to reply, only to shut it.  “I don’t know,” she said, turning onto her back and staring at the darkened ceiling as she pondered her reply.  “I guess it’s still a little surreal, you know, like I can’t quite bring myself to believe it’s happening.” 

Smiling softly, he nodded his head, then his gaze lowering slipped his hand under her pyjama top and placed it on her stomach. 

“Thinking that I’m making another human being,” she went on, covering his hand with hers. “I mean, it’s scary.  It’s a lot of responsibility.”

“It’s not just _your_ responsibility,” he said.  “It’s mine too.  I’m this...baby's daddy.”  He chuckled quietly.  "I think it's magical." 

Touching her hand to his face, she smiled and nodded her head, then turned onto her side and moved to kiss him. 

“I’m going to take care of you so you can take care of the baby while it’s growing inside you,” he went on, choking up.  “And when it’s born, well, then _I_ can start taking care of it.  Like, properly.”

With a long contented sigh, he shifted onto his back and stared at the ceiling for a while before turning onto his other side with her back to her, as if going to sleep.  She turned to shut off the light, then closing the gap between them leaned her face against his shoulder blade and draped her arm loosely over him.  He shifted under her, and closing her eyes she pressed herself a little harder against his butt while brushing her lips to his skin. 

“Baby, no,” he whispered, tensing, "Not tonight, huh?"

She paused, and a naughty smile forming lightly stroked her fingers over his stomach, to his navel and under the waistband of his shorts.  His body stiffened as he sucked in his stomach, as if pulling back from her touch, and yet he was already half hard and growing thicker in her hand.   

 "Ally, no," he said again softly, almost pleadingly, taking her wrist and gently pulling her hand off him before tucking it to his chest, "I’m beat."  

"What's wrong?" she asked in a whisper, pulling back from him.

"Nothing's wrong."  With a sigh, he turned over. "Can we just...hold?"

"Sure," she said, and let him gather her into his arms.

The next day, he was up before she was.

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics to Creedence Clearwater Revival’s 'Have You Ever Seen The Rain' are in italics and the only ones I used which are not named in this chapter.

“Shit, Ally!” Jackson exclaimed, sitting bolt upright in bed.  “What the fuck is that noise?”

Stirring, Ally smiled.  She had worried her cell alarm would be too quiet for him to hear, but no, it had done the trick just right.  “It’s my wakeup call,” she said, stretching a lazy arm to shut off the alarm before burying her head back in her pillow to shelter her eyes from the morning light filtering in through the curtains. 

“You set your alarm?”  He rubbed the sleep from his eyes.  “What time is it?”

“Five am?”

“What the fuck, Ally?” he exclaimed, flopping back down onto the mattress.  Standing up at the end of the bed, Charlie let out a loud yawn, then shook himself.  “Even Charlie agrees with me.”

Keeping her face buried in the pillow, Ally suppressed a smile.

“What do you need a five-am alarm for anyway?” he said, turning his head toward her, “Ellen’s not until, like, lunchtime.”

“I wanted to be up before you,” she said, matter-of-fact.

He stared at her with disbelief.  “What the hell for?”

Smiling, she reached up, then trailed her fingertip down his chest.  “I thought that maybe, you know, we could…”  With a sigh, she dropped her hand and her smile, and brought her eyes back up to his face.  “Come on, Jack.  We can’t just keep pretending like nothing’s wrong.”

“What the fuck are you talking about…pretending like nothing’s wrong?  You’re not making sense.”

Sitting up, Ally turned her body toward him and folded her legs Indian-style.  “Shit, Jack, you can’t keep doing this to me.”

Scrunching his eyes shut, he gave his head a shake, as if trying to make sure he was awake and not just dreaming the whole thing.  “Doing what?”

“I’m frustrated, Jack.  Fucking frustrated.”

He stared at her in utter bafflement.  “With what?”

“Oh, come on!  I know it’s early but surely…surely…”  She paused, sighed, then decided to spell it out for him.  “Even when you were off your face, we had more sex than we do now.”  She scoffed.  “Jack, we haven’t done it in ten days.  Ten fucking days!  And it’s not like I’ve been on my period either, is it?”

His eyes drifting shut as the penny finally dropped, Jack sighed and turned his face away.  “It’s just…I’ve been…” 

“Tired?” she provided when he faltered, adding when he opened his mouth to acquiesce, “No, Jack.  _I’m_ tried.  I’m fucking exhausted, like _all_ the time.  This fucking pregnancy, Jack, it makes _me_ tired.  You don’t know what _tired_ is.”

He pinched his lips to stifle a smile, and she punched him in the arm.

“It’s not fucking funny.”

His smile broadening, he touched his finger to her nose.  “It’s a little bit funny.”

Her gaze became pleading, beseeching even.  “Jack―I fall asleep exhausted by nine and you get up at the crack of dawn.  And the contractor―well, don’t get me started there.  We don’t get a moment’s peace alone together during the day either and―and…”  Out of nowhere, tears sprang to her eyes.

The amusement twinkling in his eyes made way to alarm.  “Hey, hey,” he said in a soothing whisper.  Sitting up, he lifted his hand to her chin and coaxed her to look at him when she turned her face away.  “It’s the baby―”

“No, Jack, it’s not the baby,” she cut in heatedly.  “This isn’t about the baby.”  She banged a closed fist against her chest.  “It’s about me, and my needs, as a woman.  And you’re not fulfilling them.”

He opened his mouth, only to shut it again.  “I didn’t realise…”  He swallowed, “I didn’t think.  I mean, I didn’t realise that not having sex would have such an effect on you.” 

“But why?” she insisted.  “You’ve never…not wanted sex before.”

“It’s not that I don’t _want_ sex―”

“You don’t find me attractive anymore, is that it?  Because I’m pregnant?”

“No, baby, no.  You’re fucking gorgeous.  It’s just―”

“I know my body shape is changing already.  I mean, some of my clothes feel tight and I can barely button up my pants.  And my boobs―”

“What about your boobs?” he cut in.  “Ally, your boobs are fucking perfect.”

“Then what is it?”  She slipped her hand under the bedsheet and cupped his groin, which almost immediately began responding to her touch.  “I don’t get it,” she said, her head shaking as looking back up she removed her hand.

His expression softening, he glanced down at her stomach.  “It’s just…I can’t, you know,” he said pointedly before looking back up and admitting, “Make love to you.”

She frowned. “What do you mean, you can’t?” 

He sighed.  “I worry about the baby, Ally.  I’m scared that I’m going to hurt you again.  Hurt the baby.  I want us to wait, you know, a few more weeks, until the baby’s bigger, until he’s stronger, until the risks of miscarriage are lower.”

His admission took the wind out of her sails.  Pushing up onto her knees, she cupped his face in her hands.  “Jack, Dr Stanislas said sex was safe, encouraged even.”

He opened his mouth to object.  “I know, but―”

“And I read in my book that orgasming is safe too and good for my emotional and physical well-being.”  Tilting her head to the side, she pushed her lips out in a pout.  “You want what’s best for me, don’t you?”

He was looking torn and conflicted.  “Sure I do.  You know I do, but I don’t want to risk it.  Twelve weeks, they say, that’s like the cut-off date, you know, the turning point.  Can we wait until then, and then we can like make up for it?”

Her whole body sagged with disappointment.  “But Jack, that’s another like, three and a half weeks!”

“Don’t you think I fucking know that?” he said in a pained voice.  “Do you know how hard it is to sleep with you, but not _with_ you?  It’s fucking torture, Ally.  But this baby…this baby, Ally, it’s more important than that.” 

Her expression softening lovingly, understandingly, she gave a slow nod, then stroked her hand to his face.  “There’s more than one way we can have sex, Jack.  Maybe you could…help _me_ …relieve the ache?”

He swallowed.  “The ache?”

Nodding, she pulled her pyjama top up and over her head, letting it fall to the ground by the side of the bed.  Then she picked up his hand and brought it to her chest.  “Yeah, the ache,” she said, holding his gaze levelly while she cupped his hand to her pert breast.  “Inside.”

The breath caught in his throat, and he closed his eyes.

“I can’t go on Ellen with all this…unfulfilled need inside me,” she said, lying down now, and he reopened his eyes.  “The camera doesn’t lie, Jack.”  As she talked, she lowered her pyjama shorts down her legs. “They’ll all be able to tell I haven’t had an orgasm in…too fucking long.”

His eyes following the downward journey of her shorts, he swallowed hard, then brought his eyes back to her face.  “It’s only been a few days,” he said in a breathless whisper.

“A woman has needs,” she insisted, and began to draw lazy circles over her breasts.

He gave a nod, then got off the bed abruptly.  He called for Charlie, who jumped off the end of the bed and followed his master out of the room.  Jackson sneaked back in, quickly closing the door after him, leaving a whimpering Charlie on the other side.  Ally laughed, and he shrugged sheepishly.  Her brow arching, she lowered her other hand to her groin.  A soft smile lingering on her lips as she closed her eyes, she opened her legs just a little and began stroking down her inner thigh and then back up again, her fingers curling and uncurling teasingly along the edge of her labia, her legs spreading a little wider as gently she dipped them in and out of the folds.

“Oh, God, Ally,” he gasped, “the things you do to me.”

Her smile widening, she cracked one eye open and watched as his gaze intent on her fingers still moving just inside her he licked his lips.  She spread her legs a little more, folding them at the knees, then slid her fingers a little deeper inside and as she felt how wet, how aroused she was already, made a low sound, a little groan that had him bring his eyes back up to her face and swallow hard.  Running her tongue over her lips, she glanced down at his groin, saw how hard he was, straining at his shorts.  Watching the pleasure on his face as he watched her touch herself was more of a turn on than she realised, and her lips once again parting in a low moan of unrepressed desire she closed her eyes again.

“Fuck,” she heard him mutter under his breath, before she felt the mattress dip as climbing on he knelt between her legs.  He placed his hand over hers between her legs, stilling her fingers, and waited.  When she opened her eyes, a question in them, he brought her hand to his mouth and holding her gaze steadily stuck his tongue out and licked her fingers one by one.  Never once breaking eye contact, he moved between her legs, nudging them further apart, and dipped his face to her.  Her eyes closed again as ready for him she arched her back, granting him better, deeper access.

His hands on her hips, keeping her firmly in place, he slid his tongue in and began brushing its tip to her, in turn licking and lapping and curling around her.  The onslaught on her senses was overwhelming and all-encompassing.  She grabbed and pulled at the bed sheets beneath her and as her body writhed and twisted let the sensations claim her whole.  Her head tipped back into the pillow, her hands coming to rest on either side of it, as surrendering her all to him she felt the waves of pleasure engulf her. 

“Sweet Jesus, Jack,” she gasped, her pelvis lifting, grinding and seeking more of his touch, “Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

Her orgasm built quickly, her cries becoming louder and louder until her muscles couldn’t contract any further and she bucked and throbbed around him, the strength of her release taking her by surprise.  When laughing in disbelief she’d ridden the last wave, Jack came up and took her mouth in a searing kiss.  His lips were wet, tasting of her, of them.  Panting as he pulled back, he smiled at her tenderly and returning the smile she slid her hand between their bodies to his groin.  His turn now.

His head shaking, he pulled her hand away and she frowned.  “You’re too late,” he said, laughing a little self-consciously.  “I came when you did.”

Her expression softening lovingly, she curled her hand around the back of his head and pulled him to her for another, slow languorous kiss.  Then she let out a long satisfied breath and a grin pulling at her lips closed her eyes and as she held him to her let her heartbeat slow back down to normal.  “Oh, my God, Jack,” she said, laughing as one last frisson of pleasure ran down her spine.  “I have never come this fucking hard before, like ever.   _Now_ I’m ready to face Ellen.”

Laughing, he rolled off her. She smiled contentedly, and when he opened his arm to her, she snuggled into his side with her head in the crook of his shoulder.  They dozed off again, nestled in each other’s arms until Charlie’s plaintive whines coming from the other side of the door could no longer be ignored.

 

“I told Phil to come for eight-thirty,” Jackson said, putting another spoonful of porridge into his mouth.

“Eight-thirty?” she said, surprised.  “Isn’t that a bit early?”

“For Ellen, yes.  For what I have planned?”  He finished his mouthful.  “No.”

A wide smile forming, she narrowed her gaze at him.  “Jack?”

“You trust me, don’t you?” he said, grinning excitedly, and she nodded her head. “Then relax.  And don’t ask any questions.  I know exactly what I’m doing.”  

Her smile faded as she wondered what he had in store for her.  Puzzled now, she took a blueberry out of the bowl and plopped it into her mouth.  “It’s just…well,” she began uncertainly, afraid to pop his happy bubble, “I was hoping to have time to warm up my voice, you know?  Practice the arrangement one more time.  It’s been a while since I sang and played to an audience, even if Ellen’s not live.  And then Sarah needs to do my hair and makeup and―”

He gave a slow nod of the head.  “I know, but just…”  His shoulder lifting, he waved his spoon about her bowl and smiled, “Finish your breakfast and trust me.”

So that was what she did.  While Jack shaved and took a shower, she got dressed, did her hair, keeping it down, and painted her nails.  She should have gone for a manicure, and a beauty treatment and a full body wax, but she hadn’t had the energy, or the inclination.  Jackson came into the bedroom and opened his closet, standing buck naked in front of it for a moment before picking out a pair of black jeans and a fitted black silk shirt he tossed onto the end of the bed.  He was dressed and ready before her nails were even dry.

“How do I look?” he asked, a wide smile on his face as he twirled around in front of her.

Laughing, she shook her head.  “I wish it were that easy for me too.”

He was bending down to kiss her lips when the doorbell rang. 

“That’ll be Phil,” he said.  “Ready?”

Blowing on her nails as she stood, she slipped her feet in her back heels, grabbed her cell from the bedside table and slid it inside her purse. “As I’ll ever be.”

Stopping in his tracks, he caught her by the waist and held her to him.  “You’re going to do great, so don’t worry.”

She smiled, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

“That all you’re taking?” he then asked, pointing at the case she’d packed earlier with her shoes, stage clothes and the pair of vintage, wing-shaped ear rings Jackson had bought her the day she’d taken the test to confirm she was pregnant.

She nodded.  He picked up the case, and shouldering her purse she followed him to the kitchen.  Jackson reached into the cabinet for a doggy treat and took it to Charlie’s basket.  Charlie looked at Ally a little forlornly, then at Jack standing by his basket and slowly, reluctantly, padded over.  When the pool contractor arrived, he would open the sliding doors and Charlie would be able to go in and out of the house to his pen as he pleased.  Jackson strode back to the sliding doors and picked up her case. 

“You’re not taking your hat?” she asked.

He paused.  “No.” He sighed. “Remember what I said.  I’m coming as your husband.  Not as Jackson Maine.”

“Aren’t the two one and the same?”

He gave a soft smile.  “Not right now.”

She nodded her head in understanding, then stepped past him when he opened his hand, indicating she should go first.  Phil’s SUV was parked outside the garage and after putting her case in the trunk they climbed into the back.  They left Calabasas, headed south toward the coast and Malibu and not east toward Burbank where The Ellen Show was taped, and keeping her eyes on the passing scenery she wondered where he was taking her. The morning was overcast, June gloom which had spilled into July and made distinguishing the ocean from the sky almost impossible.  

As they joined the Pacific Coast Highway headed to Santa Monica, her cell chirped with a text message and she rummaged inside her purse for it.  “It’s from Bobby,” she said, smiling as she looked over at Jackson, “Wishing me good luck.”

“You won’t need it,” he said confidently, giving her hand on her lap a gentle squeeze.  “Just do everything as you practised.  You’ll knock them dead.” 

At Santa Monica, they left the highway and continued to drive south, following the coast down Ocean Avenue and Barnard way to Venice Beach.  How much further, she wondered, still no closer to guessing where he was taking her, worried they’d never make it back to Burbank in time at this rate.  “Jack, come on, stop fucking around,” she said, turning toward him.  “Tell me where we’re going.”

“I told you,” he said, grinning, his eyes shining with excitement.  “It’s a surprise.”

“You sure we can get back in time?”

“Relax,” he said, patting his hand to her leg.  “I got it all figured out.  We’re there anyway,” he said, as Phil pulled into the Venice beach oceanfront car lot.  “Phil’s going to wait for us here and take us straight to the studio when we’re done.  We’re going to be an hour, tops.  I promise.”

Mustering a smile, she nodded.

“Leave your purse in the car,” he went on.  “You won’t need it.”

There was a knock on the glass and Jackson opened the backdoor.  “Gail,” he said, holding his hand out for Ally as he climbed out, “thanks for organising this.”

“Sure.  No problem.”

Totally bewildered by what was happening, Ally followed Jackson out of the car.  “Gail!” she exclaimed, throwing Jack a bewildered look as she moved to embrace the assistant warmly.  “How are you?”

“I’m good.  You?”

“I―I don’t know,” she replied, laughing nervously, and holding her hair back from her face on account of the sea breeze turned to Jackson.  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Jackson glanced at Gail, and she did too.

The assistant grinned.  “It’s all set up.  Twenty yard or so on the right.”

“Jack―come on!” Ally said, impatient now.

Looking a little unsure all of a sudden, he turned toward her and blew out a short breath.  “Well, like, you know how―how you’ve been a little nervous about doing Ellen and going back out there, right?”

Frowning, Ally swallowed and gave a nod.

“Well, I thought…”  His words trailing off, he took her hand and, setting off so fast that she had to trot to keep up with him, led her down Ocean Walk View.  Artists of all kinds, performers, contortionists, jugglers, dancers, and, of course, musicians had already claimed their spot and were performing for the many tourists already milling around despite the relatively early hour.  Jackson stopped suddenly in front of an empty spot.  Well, empty of performers, but waiting were a lone microphone and a guitar on a stand, both plugged into a battery-powered amp, and a tall wooden stool.

“We’re going to sing?” she asked, turning toward him with disbelief. 

“Well, _you’re_ going to sing.  I’m not.  I’m just…going to…play my guitar quietly in the background.”

A slow smile formed, spreading wider until it lit up the whole of her face.  “We’re going to busk?”

His shoulder lifted in a shrug.  “Why not?”

“What am I going to sing?”

Again he shrugged.  “It’s up to you.”

Ally took stock of her surroundings again, then grinning stepped up to the microphone.  “Okay, sure,” she said.  “Why not? Let’s do it.”

“That’s the spirit,” Jackson said.

“You brought any water?” she asked him.

Jackson froze. 

“I have,” Gail said, conjuring up a bottle seemingly out of nowhere.  She passed it to Ally who uncapped it and took a swig. 

“Just keep an eye on the time for us, okay?” Jackson instructed Gail, as he picked up the electro-acoustic guitar and slid the strap over his head and shoulder.

“Sure.”

He tried a few chords, then moved to the amp and turned the volume right down.  “Ready when you are,” he said, winking at Ally as he perched himself on the stool.

She gave a nod, then turned toward the passing tourists, none paying them the least attention right then and grabbed the microphone stand with both hands.  Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes.  Truth be told, she didn’t want them to be recognised.  She just wanted to sing for a half-hour or so, for the fun of it.  Hopefully she could warm up her voice without wearing it out and get rid of her nerves.  If she didn’t sing one of her own songs, not one of the famous ones anyway, then maybe they could keep anonymous.  There would be no pressure then. 

And so she opened her mouth and softly sang the opening line to _La Vie En Rose_ by Edith Piaf.  She didn’t know if he knew the chords for the song.  If he did, great.  But if he didn’t that would serve him right for springing this on her without notice.  She could sing this one acapella; it wouldn’t be the first time.  As it was, she needn’t have worried.  As she began the second verse, she eased a look over her shoulder and smiling widely, happily at her from behind his sunglasses, he began gently strumming his guitar.  A few people wandering past stopped to listen for a minute or two before they walked on, and amazed that their cover hadn’t been blown already she relaxed.

At the end of the song, she stooped to reach for the bottle of water and had a drink.  Someone tossed a coin at her feet, and she thanked them.  Then she turned to her husband and grinning gave him a thumbs up.  She paused for a moment, wondering what other song to sing when she thought of him and what she knew he’d enjoy playing on the guitar.  If he had fun there, playing to an almost non-existent crowd, then maybe that would help him too.  And then it came to her, the perfect song.

Taking a breath, she closed her eyes and cradling the mic sang quietly, “ _Someone told me long ago_  
_There's a calm before the storm_  
_I know it's been comin' for some time.”_

When he didn’t join in as she’d expected, she frowned and as she sang on looked over her shoulder again.  He was staring straight ahead, almost as if in a trance, and for a moment she wondered whether she’d made a mistake and picked the wrong song, whether maybe there was a backstory to this one she wasn’t aware of.  

 _“When it's over so they say_  
_It'll rain a sunny day_  
_I know shinin' down like water.”_

She was going to stop when he refocused suddenly and smiled.  Adjusting the guitar on his leg, he began to play and taking the mic off the stand she launched into the chorus and joined his side.  Sitting on the stool, he was the same height as her standing, and she looped a loose arm around his neck and watched him play as she sang.  It felt like that first time he’d got her on stage to sing with him.  For a minute, she forgot her surroundings and lost herself in the song, in the music.

When they came to the end, Jackson immediately launched into Johnny Cash’s _Jackson_ , the transition between the two seamless it seemed, and she knew that just like her he was lost in the moment.  She knew the song well – he’d confessed to being named after it when his friend Noodles had played the song at their wedding – but she didn’t sing to it, she just watched his face, his hands and fingers as effortlessly they glided over the frets and strings.  Half-way through the song, he seemed to remember where he was and looking up he smiled and she understood that the moment was as cathartic for him as it was for her. 

When he reached the end of that song, he looked up again and grinning played the iconic opening chords to The Turtle’s _Happy Together._ Her head shaking, she laughed and leaned her forehead onto his shoulder. This time she felt compelled to join in, starting quietly at first, in a lower register than she was used to, singing words she’d never really fully appreciated until she sang them to him, there.

 _“Imagine me and you, I do_  
_I think about you day and night, it's only right_  
_To think about the girl you love and hold her tight_  
_So happy together_

 _If I should call you up, invest a dime_  
_And you say you belong to me and ease my mind_  
_Imagine how the world could be, so very fine_  
_So happy together.”_

When she reached the chorus and the crowd joined in, she looked over at them and registered a look of surprise at the amount of people that had gathered to watch.  Some were filming on their cells, others simply singing or mouthing the words along with her.  When they came to the end of the song, Ally saw Gail step forward, a wide smile on her face as she tapped her index finger to her left wrist, indicating it was time.  Ally nodded her head, then glanced at Jackson and then back at the crowd.

“Sing Shallow!” someone shouted, just as she was about to thank them all for listening.

“Please,” someone else called.

So their cover was blown, she thought, but it wasn’t so bad.  People weren’t being pushy, they just seemed astounded by what was happening.  She looked over at Jackson to see what his reaction was and he shrugged his shoulder at her.  She nodded her head, and his smile fading he looked down at his guitar and began picking the first few notes of the song.  The crowd cheered.  Holding the mic away from her face, she leaned into his ear. “You want me to sing your part?”

Giving a nod, he started over with the melody, and staying close to him she sang both parts, every so often stopping to listen to the crowd sing the words.  It never got old, even if today it was a crowd of twenty rather than the thousands she was now accustomed to.  Her voice fully warmed up, she let go when she got to the bridge and then belted out the chorus one last time, much to her audience’s approval, before turning the microphone in their direction and letting them close the song.

“I’m sorry, but we’ve got to go now,” she said afterwards, laughing as she put the microphone back on the stand.  “But thank you so much. You’ve been wonderful.”  She opened her hand out toward Jackson, who was already talking to Gail.  “And thank you, Jackson, for playing guitar for me.”

Jackson turned toward her when he heard his name, and the crowd clapped.  Smiling stiffly, he raised his hand in acknowledgement, but despite his best effort to conceal it she could tell he was uneasy.  A stagehand came, unplugged and began to pack away the equipment.  Before she could say anything, Jackson grabbed her hand and they set off at a brisk pace through the dispersing crowd toward the waiting SUV.  She was coming down from her high very quickly.

“You okay?” she asked, when safely ensconced in the back of the car Phil drove away.

He gave a tight nod, then ran his hand through his hair.  She picked up his other hand, the one closer to her, and pressed it to her lips.  “Thank you,” she said.  “I know you only did it for me.”

His face softened. "Maybe we should have worn disguises," he said.  "Dressed up as Sonny and Cher."

She laughed.  "Or June Carter and Johnny Cash."

His expression darkened again.  “I was fine until the very end when I looked up for the last time and saw everyone watching and staring, you know, as if they were waiting to see if I was drunk and going to make a fucking fool of myself again―”  Letting his words trail, he clamped his jaw shut.

Looping his arm around her, she scooted over on the seat as far as her seat belt allowed and leaned her head against his shoulder.  “Let them wonder,” she said quietly, looking over to him.  “We know the truth, that's all that matters.  I’m not ashamed of what happened and neither should you be.  We all have our struggles in life.  No one is immune.  It’s just that ours are out there for everyone to see."  She paused, then added, "You know? Maybe they weren't waiting for you to slip up. Maybe they weren't judging at all.  Maybe they were just staring because they were mesmerised.  We kicked ass out there.”

Pulling her closer to him, he smiled and kissed the top of her head.  "Thank you."

“I can do the show alone, if you’d rather go home,” she went on when he lapsed into silence.  “I’m ready.  And I have you to thank for that.”  She grinned cheekily.  “In more ways than one.”

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has suffered many rewrites and I'm still not sure I got Ellen's voice - or the whole Ellen Show experience for that matter - right at all. :(

“So,” Ally asked Sarah, mindlessly pulling a grape from the bunch and popping it into her mouth, “You think you can do something with it that’s not going to look ridiculous?  I’m growing the red out.”

Lifting a strand of Ally’s hair, Sarah pursed her mouth.  “I wish you’d given me more time.  We could have put some lowlights in.”  Pausing, she dropped the hair and looked at Ally through the mirror, “But yeah, I think so.  Can I cut it?”

Ally grabbed a handful of hair.  “How much?” she asked a little fearfully.

“Up to the shoulder?  Not so short that we can’t still do plenty with it afterwards.”

Looking at her reflection, she turned her head left, then right.  “Sure.  Why not?  Go for it.”

Sarah sprayed Ally’s hair with water and reached for her comb and scissors.  While Ally ate her Club sandwich and finished the grapes, she set to work.  It didn’t take long for her to cut and then style Ally’s hair in a carefully messy, textured shoulder bob.  “So?” she said, turning off the hairdryer and looking a little uncertain as she met Ally’s eyes in the mirror, “You like it?”

Ally opened her mouth, only to shut it again.  “I love it!” she exclaimed finally.

Sarah’s face lit up with pleasure.  She picked up the hairspray and Ally closed her eyes.  “When the darker roots grow out some more,” she said, spraying a generous amount all over Ally’s hair, “We can cut the hair again and gradually we can create more of this red ombre effect until there’s no red left.”

Sarah put the can of hairspray down and reopening her eyes Ally nodded her head, then grinned at her reflection excitedly.

“Now, for the makeup.” 

“I was thinking a natural look,” Ally said.  “No blue eyeshadow, or garish lipstick.  I want to get away from the whole pop...thing.  You know what I mean?”

“I think so.”

Sarah swapped her hair for her makeup case on the counter, and quickly, adeptly got to work again.  The result was stunning, sophisticated even and as she stared at her reflection with disbelief Ally worried the dress she had chosen to wear wouldn’t go with her new face.  “Thank you,” she said, gripping Sarah’s hand warmly as the latter put her makeup brushes away.  “You’re a magician.”

Sarah gave Ally a shy smile.  “I don’t know about that.  You’ve got a really good bone structure.”

Standing, Ally moved to the dress she’d hung on a hook, then thought of the outfit Rez had sent over for her to wear.  Had she made the wrong choice?  Too late, now, she thought, taking her robe off.  She took the dress off the hanger, slipped it on and did up the side zipper.  Then she sat down on the couch to put on her ankle-strap closed-toe red heels and standing back up looked at her reflection in the full length mirror.  The slightly loose-fitting vintage sleeveless chiffon dress that stopped just above the knee hugged her body in just the right places.  Her gaze dropping to her stomach in the mirror, she smoothed down the dress a little self-consciously.

“So?” Ally asked, turning toward Sarah uncertainly. 

“Perfect.”

Ally’s face lit up with a smile.  “Now for the jewellery,” she said, reaching inside her case for the small square box that housed her earrings.  Thinking the dress didn’t need one, she hadn’t brought a necklace.

“Wow, these are beautiful,” Sarah said, stepping forward as Ally took them out of the box.

Smiling, Ally looked up.  “They’re a present from my husband.”  She took them out of the box and was putting them on in front of the mirror when the door opened abruptly and Rez stormed in.  “What the fuck, Rez?” Ally exclaimed, spinning around with a start.  “Have you never heard of knocking?”

Her makeover clearly gave him pause, and giving his head a shake he refocused on her face briefly before turning to Sarah.  “Can you give me and Ally a minute?”

Ally frowned.  “No, Rez.  We haven’t finished,” she lied.

“You look like you’ve finished,” he retorted.  “And besides, it won’t take long.” He glanced at Sarah dismissively.  “Go and make yourself a drink or something.”

Sarah met Ally’s gaze uncertainly, and when Ally grudgingly nodded her head she crept past Rez and left the room.

“So, I’m talking to the producer and she tells me that you’ve already briefed her?” Rez said, his tone curt but quiet.  “Made arrangements behind my back?”

Standing her ground, Ally gave a nod.  “I had this idea and―”

“I know.  She told me – the piano.  You know how finding out from her made me feel?  Foolish.  Small.  Undermined by my own artist.  Like you were bypassing me.”

She bristled.  “Bypassing you?” she exclaimed, and remembering that the partition walls were thin lowered her voice to an urgent whisper.  “Like you by-passed me when you spoke to Jack behind my back?” 

Rez sighed.  “I thought we were past all that.”

Now wasn’t the time to get riled up and she paused to take a breath.  “I didn’t tell you because I know what you’re like, okay?”

“Oh?  And what am I like?”

“You have your vision of how I should do things and I have mine.  You’d have said no to the piano.”

“Too right I would have. You need to be in front of the camera, Ally.  Not hiding behind a fucking piano.”

“I’m not hiding behind the piano.  Does Elton John hide behind the piano?  Does Sarah McLachlan, or Billy Joel?  No, it’s part of their act, like it’s part of mine.”

Rez laughed.  “Are you comparing yourself to Elton John?  To Sarah McLachlan?  I don’t think you’re quite there yet, sweetheart.”

Stepping closer, Ally pointed a finger at his face.  “Don’t fucking sweetheart me, Rez.  It’s the piano or nothing.  I told you, I’m in control, not you.”

Rez paused, sighed.  “I agreed when you said no dancers.  Could you not have met me half-way?  I mean, look at you now.”

She registered a look of surprise, bit back her angry retort, opting instead to convey poise and control. “What?” she challenged.  “You don’t like the dress?”

“No, I don’t like the dress.  It’s frumpy.  It makes you look old.  It’s something my mother would wear.”  He laughed. “Actually no, it's not. She’s got more style. What about the outfit I sent over for you to wear?”

“It wasn’t me.  I didn’t like it.”

He laughed with disbelief.  “You didn’t like it.  What does it matter if you like it or not?  You’re on TV doing a show.  It’s all for show.  It fits with your image.”

Ally kept her cool, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.  “About that,” she said, and pointed at her head.  “As you can see, I’m scrapping the image altogether.”

“You’re what?”

“Scrapping the image,” she repeated matter-of-factly.  “I’m going with the image I’m comfortable with.  Me.”

Rez let out a mirthless laugh.  “Oh, Ally.  Ally, I know the music business better than you do.  You’re a pop artist.  You need to look like one, or people will be confused.  You got to trust me.”

It was her turn to laugh.  “Trust you?  Trust _you_?”

“Look at where you are now,” he cut in.  “On fucking Ellen.  You wouldn’t be here without me.”

“Maybe not.  But I’d be somewhere else, probably on a stage singing with my husband.  Which is where I’m happiest, Rez, so don’t fucking push me too hard.”

Rez’s smile was very wry.  “Like you were this morning on Venice Beach?”

Ally’s brow rose in surprise. 

“Is that what you want as a career?” he went on, shaking his head dismissively.  “To be busking alongside all the nobodies that couldn’t cut it in this industry?”

Anger flared suddenly. “I hope you’re not insinuating what I think you are, because―”  Voices and laughter in the corridor just outside her door, Ellen and the unmistakable rumble of Jack’s baritone voice, stopped her short.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Rez said, turning toward the sound.

“He’s my husband,” she said.  “This is my big comeback, remember?  Where else would he be?”

Rez clamped his jaw shut.

“You got to face facts, Rez,” she said, her voice quiet yet menacing.  “I’m the one with the fucking talent here.  Either you do it my way, or not at all.”  There was a knock on the door, and plastering a wide smile on her lips, she called a happy, “Come in.” 

 

Taking her place at the piano, Ally smoothed down her dress, then feeling her feet to the pedals checked her in-ears were in properly, adjusted the microphone and lightly brushed her hands over the keys.  Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath she released slowly.  When she reopened her eyes, she avoided looking at the cameras, at the stage crew all around, had one last look at Jackson standing stage left with Rez hovering not far behind.  Jackson grinned at her happily, then gave her a thumbs-up and smiling back brightly she nodded her head. 

“Have fun,” he mouthed.  “I love you.”

“Ally, you’re on in ten,” the floor manager said, refocusing her abruptly, and the smile died on her lips.

Distantly, she heard Ellen begin her introduction, “The new single, called _The Cure_ , is taken from her self-titled debut album which is out right now.”

Gathering her thoughts, she raised her hands, keeping her fingers poised over the keys.  She was ready; she could do this.  She _would_ do this.

“And five, four…”

“Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce to you for the first time on this stage and opening the show for us today…Ally!”

All at once, the audience cheered and clapped. The stage screens keeping her hidden from sight slid away as the lights on the main set dimmed. Someone gave a shrill whistle, Ramon she thought, an instinctive smile forming, could well imagine her father reprimanding him for it.  The spotlight was on her now, and taking a deep breath she lowered her fingers to the keys, beginning the song exactly as she’d practised.  Her voice was clear, on pitch, all the warmth, the love and emotion she’d felt when she’d penned the words coming through her vocals.  The song was about Jackson, and there in front of everyone she sang it just for him. 

And as she launched into the chorus one last time she gave it her all, showing her pain and vulnerability, her strength too, while making her performance as energetic and as spirited as ever.  All too soon, she uttered the last _Promise I'll be the cure_ , played the last note and breathing hard lifted her hands off the keyboard and her eyes up toward the audience – _her_ audience for a few minutes.  It erupted in rapturous applause and grinning she pulled her in-ears out and as she stood put them on the piano bench.  The studio lights came back on.  Her wide smile firmly in place, she moved to the spot in front of the piano where she’d been told to stand and clasping her hands in front of her bowed her head in gratitude.

It felt so good to be back on stage, to be received with such warmth and be appreciated for her music again.  She had missed it, more than she would ever care to admit. Straightening up, she smiled brightly then looked over to where Jackson had stood before and saw him there, beaming proudly at her as he gave her a double thumbs-up.  Her smile broadening instinctively, pleasurably, she glanced at Rez standing beside him and watched as smiling smugly he clapped Jackson on the shoulder and said something in his ear.

“Wow,” Ellen said, refocusing her suddenly as she came to embrace her.  “What a start to today's show, ladies and gentlemen!”

“Well, thank you,” Ally said, but her voice didn’t carry.  She glanced backstage, but from where she now stood she couldn’t see either Jackson or Rez.

“This was a wonderful rendition of a wonderful song,” Ellen went on when on cue the applause died down.  “Thank you for performing it for us.”

“Thank you for having me do it,” Ally tried again, successfully heard this time.  “It's an honour.”

Ellen opened her hand, indicating they should move to sit down, which they did.  Smoothing her dress down a little nervously, Ally took a seat on the cream armchair and sitting up straight with her legs together turned to face Ellen.  Performing had been the easy part, the interview was more daunting, and clasping her hands together on her lap a little anxiously she glanced backstage again. 

“So, Ally, this is the next single from the album that’s out now?”

Her smile returned, bright and dancing.  “That’s right.  It’s called _The Cure_ ,” she said, immediately chastising herself for repeating something Ellen had already said a few times. 

Ellen reached for a copy of Ally’s CD from the low table between them and showed it to the camera for a close-up while Ally picked up her glass and took a quick sip of water to steady her nerves.

“Look how beautiful she is on the cover, ladies and gentlemen,” Ellen said, before putting the CD down again, “But not as beautiful as she is in the flesh.”

“Oh, wow,” Ally said, blowing out a nervous breath as she put the glass down.  “You’re too kind.  Coming to perform here in front of you all is a dream come true.  Really.”

“Now, who’s being kind?” Ellen retorted with mock-modesty.

The audience laughed, and Ally relaxed.  Squinting against the studio lights, she scanned her eyes over the front row looking for her father, Ramon and the guys, automatically waving back when they waved at her excitedly.

“Who’s that you’re waving to?” Ellen asked, turning to look.

“Oh, sorry,” Ally replied with an uneasy laugh, refocusing on Ellen.  “It’s just my friends and family.”

Unbeknown to Ally, on the screen behind her, the camera cut to her father, Ramon and the guys, beaming and waving from the front row. 

“They must be real proud,” Ellen said.  “I mean, you write your own songs and music, right?”

“I do.”   

“You’re one talented lady!”

“Thank you,” Ally said, a little self-consciously.

“This performance today like that stripped back at the piano reminded me a little of Sheryl Crow.”

“Oh, my gosh!” Ally exclaimed excitedly.  “Thank you so much.  It means so much you saying that.  I’m a huge fan of hers.  Like, I grew up listening to her music, playing her music and singing her songs.  Women like her and Tori Amos and Sarah McLaughlin, well, they shaped my teenage years and made me the woman I am now.”

“Well, I’m sure they’d be flattered to hear that,” Ellen said, and thinking that maybe she’d gone overboard with her praise Ally laughed a little awkwardly.  “So, first of all, congratulations on your Grammy award victory,” Ellen went on, the mention of the Grammys causing Ally’s smile to stiffen.  “This is you receiving said Grammy.” 

Ally frowned, and Ellen pointed at a small TV monitor on the floor in front of them, that showed a still photograph of her receiving the award.  The audience clapped.

“Well, thank you,” Ally said, hoping her smile was covering her discomfort, wary where Ellen was taking her line of questioning.  “It’s a great honour to be nominated, let alone win.  Especially as it was my first time being nominated.”

“Well, here's to plenty more."

The audience clapped, and Ally thanked them. 

"So, we put together a little surprise for you,” Ellen then said, and the lights dimmed.  “Watch this.”

Unsure what to expect, Ally turned her attention to the small screen in front of them.  A montage of still images highlighting her rise to fame and her transformation into a pop star began to play to the sound of _Look What I Found_.  The first few photographs, showing her aged fifteen at home playing her Casio keyboard, had clearly been provided by her father, the next few ones had been taken by Ramon on his cell when she’d sung at the Bleu Bleu Club, and looking over to them grinning happily as they watched the montage on the screen that filled the back wall she shook her head in disbelief. 

Most of the rest of the pictures were in the public domain, either taken by fans or by professional photographers, but others had been taken in the recording studio, or backstage either while she’d been touring with Jack and his band or later solo.  A few of these photographs she’d never seen before and didn’t even remember being taken.  None of them featured Jackson, which made her sad because he was such an important part - if not the most important part - of her rise to fame.  

“Where did you find these?” she exclaimed with surprise, with disbelief, when tears in her eyes she turned back toward Ellen.

“Oh, we have our ways,” Ellen said, touching her index finger to the side of her nose, making the audience laugh.  “Two years ago, you were still an unknown artist, working as a server, right?  And look at you now!” she exclaimed, opening her hand toward Ally.  “Don’t you agree with me, ladies and gentlemen, she did amazing?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Ally said a little demurely.  “I mean I have a lot of people to thank for getting me to this point.  I could never have done it alone.  I mean, I couldn’t have done it without my wonderful fans out there,” she looked straight at the camera as she talked, then at the front row and smiled, “and my family and friends. My manager,” she added because, well, it was expected of her.

“But most of all, I couldn’t have done it without Jackson, my husband,” she went on, choking up.  “Without him I’d still be waiting tables, I’m sure of that.  Not that there’s anything wrong with waiting tables,” she added, laughing nervously.  “But he’s the one who saw talent when I didn’t see any, who gave me the confidence to believe in myself and in what I could achieve. What I _can_ achieve.”  Feeling tears rise again, she averted her eyes to her lap and blinking at them self-consciously gave another uneasy laugh, “I mean, when Jack brought me on that stage…that first time and we sang _Shallow_ together…it was just magical.”

“It’s funny you should mention that," Ellen said, turning toward the audience. "‘Cause we’ve got a short clip of it.  Do you want to see it?”

The audience cheered, and Ally composed herself as she watched the thirty-second recording.  “My dad has watched this clip about a thousand times,” she said, laughing in disbelief afterwards.  “I still can’t believe it really.”

“And how’s Jackson?” Ellen asked, and she refocused abruptly.

“He’s good.  Real good.  You saw for yourself earlier.”

“I did,” Ellen said, beaming.  She turned to the audience and grinned.  “That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, Jackson Maine is in the house!”

The audience whooped.

Thinking that maybe Ellen was going to ask Jackson to come on set, Ally looked around uncertainly. “Is he coming out?” she asked in a whisper, confused.

“No, he’s not,” Ellen said, and turned to address the audience.  “But do you want to see him?”

Ally grew increasingly alarmed.  She leaned in toward Ellen and talked quietly but forgot that Ellen’s microphone was on.  “I don’t think―I mean I don’t know if―”

More whoops and applause from the audience had her stop in her tracks.

“I think he’s trying to keep a low profile,” she tried again, keeping her voice low.

“I know,” Ellen replied in a loud whisper, her words clearly picked up by the mic.  “I also know where he’s hiding because I put him there.”  Once again she turned to address the house.  “Jackson?  Can you hear me?”

“Oh, I hear you,” Jackson said, chuckling, his voice coming through loud speakers as the picture on the TV monitor changed.

Ally’s confusion intensified.  “Where is he?”

“He’s on a live feed from the Riff-Raff room.”

“The Riff-Raff room?” she repeated, puzzled as she stared at a long shot of Jackson sitting on a couch in a room among a small group of people.  He looked comfortable enough, and idly she wondered whether Ellen had sprung the interview on him or whether he’d agreed to taking part beforehand and not told her. 

“Oh, that’s the overflow room where we put the extra people,” Ellen explained, “you know, those who showed up but couldn’t get – or in Jackson’s case didn’t want – a seat in the audience.  So _Jackson_ _Maine_ ,” she repeated, emphasising each syllable excitedly as she half-turned toward the big screen that fed the picture to the audience so she could address him directly.  Ally turned too. 

The audience cheered, and Jackson laughed uneasily.  “Thank you very much.”

“So first of all, what I want to know is what happened to the beard?”

“Oh,” Jackson said, self-consciously stroking his beardless chin, and Ally smiled.  “You said you wouldn’t ask about that.”

“Well, I lied,” Ellen said, and the audience laughed.

“It just got too long, that's all,” he answered finally. "So I gave it a trim."

“You gave it a trim, huh?" Ellen exclaimed, chuckling.  "Well, remind me never to ask you to give _my_ hair a trim!” Touching her cropped hair, Ellen turned to the audience and winked.  “So, Jackson, tell me. Aside from trimming the beard, what have you been up to?”

Feeling very protective all of a sudden, Ally stiffened.  What was Ellen doing?  Was she after a scoop?  What was she asking exactly?  Was she referring to what happened at the Grammys and his subsequent stay in the rehab centre?  It was clear from his reply earlier that he had agreed to talk with Ellen, but was he about to regret that decision?

“Oh, you know,” he went on, easily enough, and Ally relaxed.  “I’ve been taking it easy mainly, going for walks with our dog, Charlie.  Actually right now I’m building a pool.”

“A swimming pool?”

“Huh, huh.  In our backyard.”

“That’s great and all, but what we all really want to know is if you’ve been working on new material.  A new album maybe?”

When Jackson didn’t immediately reply, Ally nodded her head fervently.

“Oh, you have?” Ellen exclaimed, her eyes widening gleefully.

“Go on, Jack,” Ally said.  “You can tell them.”

“Yes, _Jack_ ,” Ellen echoed cheekily, “You can tell us.  We won’t tell anyone.  Will we now?”

The audience laughed, and Jackson did too.

“I’ve been…writing a little, you know,” he replied.  “Actually, Ally and I have been…working on an arrangement for one of her new songs.”

Ellen turned her attention back to Ally.  “A new song?”

Ally nodded.  “For my next album.”

“But you’re not done with this one yet!” 

“Well, you know, it’s good to have a goal.  It’s still in the very early stages,” she then said, with a diffident shrug of her shoulder.  

“And Jackson’s helping you with it?”

”He is,” she replied, smiling pleasurably as she glanced at Jackson on the screen. He was watching her intently, tenderly, and her face softened lovingly. “My husband and our story are my biggest inspiration when I write.  They’re my energy, so I guess you could say one way or another he’s helped me with all the songs I've written.” 

"I think that's my cue," Jackson said.

"What?" Ellen said, laughing.  "You don't like your wife waxing lyrical about you?  I wish mine would more often."

A few people laughed in the audience, and Jackson did too.  He lifted his hand in a wave and as the live feed switched to an  _ellen_ screensaver Ellen turned back toward the house. "Ladies and gentlemen, that was Jackson Maine!"

The audience clapped and Ally did too.

"So, Ally," Ellen said when the applause subsided, "what can you tell us about the next album?"

"Not much as yet," Ally replied.  "Just that it will be very different from this current album."

"In what ways?"

“If anything, it will be even more personal and deal with issues that a lot of people - here in the US, and I guess around the world - deal with on a daily basis. Hopefully issues which people will relate to when they listen to the lyrics, to the melodies.”  Ellen gave a nod, which was all the encouragement she needed to go on.  “Writing’s a release for me, a healing process. It's been like that ever since I was a teenager. It’s about real life.  It’s about what we’re going through as individuals, but also as part of a family unit, as part of a community, and how the struggles affect more than the person suffering from them.”

“You’re talking about addiction, right?” Ellen said, her tone serious and interested.

“Sure, but other life struggles too.”  She thought of her mother, of her own worries about postpartum depression.  “Addiction, depression, bipolar and eating disorders are all mental illnesses that are more common and widespread than we realise and that can affect all of us, regardless of gender, wealth and status.  Even now in 2019, there’s a stigma around speaking out and getting help, a sense of shame, and there shouldn’t be.  We’re all at the mercy of it happening to us at one time or another in our life.  We need to be supportive, not judging.”

The audience, which had been silent and listening intently up to then, applauded, and Ally looked over to them with surprise.  For a moment, she’d forgotten where she was, and she gave them all a warm smile.

“Well, Ally, sadly that's all we have time for," Ellen said, and Ally registered another look of surprise.  "It’s a been a pleasure talking with you, and catching up with Jackson too. Maybe next time I can have both of you sitting here, chatting to us.”

“I’d love that,” Ally said.  “Thank you for having me.”

“Where can we expect to see you next?”

“Well, I’ve a few more TV and radio interviews lined up and then I’m going to be doing a few festivals over the summer.”  She laughed.  “Rez, that’s my manager, he likes to keep me busy.”

“Oh, don’t they all,” Ellen said, laughing, and the audience did too.  “So, no new tour?”

“Not until the next album is out,” she said, her smile fading.  “But like I said it’s festival season, so you’ll be seeing plenty of me.  I‘ll be around.”

“You heard her, ladies and gentlemen, she’ll be around!”  Ellen picked up Ally’s CD again and showed it to the camera for another close up.  “If you haven’t done so already, go buy Ally’s album.  It’s wonderful.”  She put the CD down, then turned toward a different camera, “After the break…”

Ally let out the long breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding throughout the interview.  She looked around the set but could see no signs of Jackson, or Rez for that matter.  She looked over to her father and Ramon and when they gave her a thumbs-up she smiled widely at them.  A production assistant came over to take off her microphone and receiver, and Ally thanked Ellen again gratefully.

“It was a pleasure,” Ellen replied, with a genuine smile.  “I hope you didn’t mind the stunt we pulled with Jackson.”

“Oh, no, not at all,” Ally said.  “I mean, as long as he was fine with it.  How did you…get him to agree to it?”

“Jackson’s been doing this a long time.  He might not like it or agree with it, but he knows how the business works.”  She smiled again.  “It was a great interview.  You came across as very genuine.”

Unsure if this was meant as a compliment or not, Ally frowned, then nodded her head uncertainly.  “Thank you.”

"And I meant it.  When Jackson's ready for it, you should come back together."

Ally's smile returned as she nodded her head.  "We will."

Crew members greeted her warmly when she got backstage and she signed a few autographs and copies of her album.  Every so often she looked up, expecting to see Jackson coming to meet her, but in vain.  She wondered then if he was mad at her for alluding to their issues without consulting with him first.  He’d been doing so much better lately, his new exercise and eating regimes, as well as his regular meetings with his therapist and the AA group, helping him to stay sober, and she’d hate for what she’d said in the interview to have pushed him over the edge when he’d already been a little shaky after the Venice Beach performance.

Today had been his first real challenge of being in the limelight again, which she knew he’d only done because of her, and she hoped it wouldn’t be the cause for a relapse.  She checked the green room, and when she didn’t find him there either rushed to her dressing room.  Rez was talking to one of the show’s producers in the corridor, and she slowed down.  Again, she thought about the interview she’d just given, about how her private life had dominated the questioning, rather than the album and her career. 

Rez turned toward her.  Their eyes met and with a sigh, she readied herself for a fight.

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry with the delay with this - again. RL's busyness means I've kind of lost my mojo a little. :( 
> 
> I hope you're still interested and that you'll enjoy the update.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Ally pre-empted defensively, brushing past Rez as she went into her dressing room.  “So save your breath.” 

“Oh, here we go again,” Rez said, matter-of-fact, as quietly he closed the door after him. 

She scanned quick eyes around the room, her heart sinking when it was clear that Jackson wasn’t there either. 

“And what am I going to say, huh?” Rez went on.

Refocusing, she turned around.  He was watching her expectantly, a smug look on his face.  “That Jack hijacked the interview.  That in a roundabout kind of way, it became about him – about us and our private life, instead of about the album. That I should have promoted this album instead of the next one, which isn’t even written yet, let alone recorded.”  Her voice rose steadily, angrily as she talked – anger directed at Rez for being there and at Jackson for _not_  – and grabbing her purse she took out her cell.  It showed eleven text messages and with a sigh she unlocked it. 

“Well,” Rez said, “All of it _is_ true, isn’t it?”

Frowning, Ally distractedly opened her messages.  They were from her father and Ramon, congratulating her, nothing from Jackson, and letting out a long breath she texted him a quick _Where are you?_   “And now he’s fucking disappeared!” she snapped despairingly, looking up and angrily waving her cell at Rez.  “I can’t find him anywhere.”

“And what?” Rez levelled.  “You think I have something to do with that?”

She took a step closer to him.  “Well, don’t you?  What did you tell him?”

Rez registered a look of surprise.  “When?” he asked, stepping back defensively.  “I didn’t tell him anything.”

“Don’t lie to me, Rez,” she said tersely.  “You spoke to him after the performance.  When you were both backstage.  I saw you. You put your hand on his shoulder and said something to him.”

Rez smiled.

Her expression hardened.  “I want to know what you said to him, Rez.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t trust you.  Because you have an agenda.”  She checked her cell, but Jackson hadn’t replied, then fixed Rez with a dark look.  “Don’t fuck with me, Rez.  Do you know where he is?”

“No, I don’t,” he replied calmly, adding when she stared at him with disbelief, “I don’t know where he is, alright?  I haven’t seen him since that stunt Ellen pulled.”

“Because you’ve got to fucking understand one thing,” she said, pointing her cell at him, “The only reason you’re still my manager is because of Jackson.”

Rez’s brow rose.  “Is that so?”

She stared at him coolly, steadily, spoke through gritted teeth.  “You’d better believe it, because if it was up to me, you’d be long gone.”

“And who’d manage you, huh?  Jack?”

“Why not?” she challenged.

He smirked.  “He knows nothing about the pop world.”  His gaze narrowed perceptively.  “And I don’t think he wants to manage you either, does he? Or else you’d have already fired me.”

She clamped her jaw shut.  “What did you say to him?” she asked again, shouting when he didn’t reply, “Tell me!”

Rez scoffed, then shook his head and gave a sad laugh, and she looked away.  She hated that she was so transparent to him, that her worry, her panic over Jackson’s mental wellbeing right then was so utterly obvious and a sign of weakness he could use against her.

“I didn’t say anything… _bad_ to him, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he replied after a beat, his voice low and steady.  “I was just…agreeing to something he’d said to me earlier.”

She frowned.  “Jack spoke to you?”

Rez nodded.  “He was right.”  He shrugged, and her confusion intensifying she watched as he moved to the table and picked up a bottle of water.  “You were both right,” he went on quietly, turning around toward her.  He twisted the cap and took a sip.

She could feel a headache developing and closing her eyes she gave her head a shake.  “About what?” she asked, trying to make sense of what was happening.  Why would Jackson deliberately talk to Rez? Why would he put himself in that situation if he didn’t have to? Feeling lightheaded all of a sudden, she rubbed her hand to her forehead and went to sit down on the armchair.  Closing her eyes, she bowed her head and wiped a weary hand down her face. 

“You alright?” Rez asked, sounding concerned.

Startling, she looked up.  “Sure.”

“You want some water?”

With a sigh, she nodded her head, and Rez opened a second bottle which he emptied into a glass he brought over.  She took a sip, and then another.  Rez took a seat across from her on the second armchair and studied her closely, intently.  She put the glass down on the nearby table and for something to do bent down to take off her shoes and massage her sore feet.

“You were right,” he said again and waited for her to look up to add, “to do the song at the piano the way you did.  It was really beautiful.”

Shock registering on her face, she could only stare at him with disbelief, with suspicion.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Rez said, chuckling uneasily.  “I mean it.”  He sighed, shrugged his shoulder somewhat awkwardly.  “And that’s what I told Jackson.  Right before you started playing, he told me to trust you, to trust your instinct, that you would blow me away – blow us all away – and you did.”

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you’re worried I’m going to fire you.”

Rez laughed.  “What you did today, the way you sang _The Cure_ , well, it reminded me of when I first saw you perform _Always Remember Us This Way_.  You took me back to that place, and I enjoyed it.  Your fans have already heard the album version a thousand times; you were right to give them something new.”

Stunned for words, Ally opened her mouth, then shut it again.  “I don’t know what to say.”

“When Jackson spoke to me, it seemed like…it was like he was trying to…reach out and make peace, I guess.”  Rez shrugged.  “With me and…also maybe what I represent. I don’t know, but he genuinely has your best interest at heart, I can see that now, and believe it or not I do too, even if we don’t always see eye-to-eye.”

Rez’s words gave Ally pause.  She still didn’t fully trust him – she didn’t think she could ever again – but he sounded genuine enough and so she found herself hesitantly thanking him.

“I _am_ sorry,” he went on, “What I did, speaking to Jackson behind your back was wrong. I can see that now too.”  He paused.  “What you said to Ellen about what the new album's about, is it true?”

Wary of the sudden change of tack, Ally nodded her reply. “Jack’s...working hard, very hard, so that what happened at the Grammys never happens again.  But it could, that’s the nature of addiction.  And if it does, then I’ll be right there by his side, doing whatever it takes.  Jack and I…we’re in this together, Rez, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health.  Whatever struggles he’s going through we’re going through together, and I won’t let _you_ or anyone or even my career come before that.”

His gaze averting, Rez nodded his head slowly. “Okay,” he said, looking back up, and then with another more forthright nod, “Okay.”  He stood, put his glass down on the tray on the table then made to leave before thinking better of it.  “Oh, and by the way,” he went on, and she braced herself for some acerbic comeback. “Today’s performance is going straight online, on Ellen’s YouTube channel, well after it's aired tomorrow.  That’s what the chat to the producer before was about.”

“Really?” she mustered, once again caught off guard.

Rez nodded.  “It’s not unusual.  But,” he went on, pausing for effect, “I’m in talks now with the show’s producers and the record label to release this song, just as you sang it, as a _single_ available for streaming on the various platforms.”

Her face lit up at the news. “Oh, my God!”

“We still need to finalise the details, sign on the dotted line and so on, but it’s a done deal, Ally.  Just next time, talk to me first about your plans, so I don’t look like a total prick who doesn’t know what’s going on.” 

“I didn’t think you’d listen.”

“Yeah, well, you might have been right, but I promise that from now on…I will.  You did well today.”

This was just too much to process.  Reaching for her glass, she drank from it and took a moment to let the news sink in.  “You’re not mad that Ellen hijacked the interview and made it about Jackson?”

He shrugged.  “I was expecting that.  I mean, come on, she’s after ratings as much as the next man.  That's Jackson’s first TV appearance since the Grammys.  It’s a scoop for her.  But Jackson, well, he handled it well, like a real pro.  He did just enough to stop the rumour mill and play in your favour.  He came across well actually, honest and heartfelt, as you did.  And I think the viewers will respond to that, relate to that, especially after what you said in the interview afterwards.”

Rez’s turnabout was still unnerving, and she wasn’t sure how to respond.  “Thank you,” she just said, for want of something better.

He flicked his eyes from her face to her abdomen and then back up again.  “Listen, Ally, before I go. I wasn’t going to mention it, but well…there’s some gossip going round on social media, and you know normally I wouldn’t―”

The door opened suddenly, cutting Rez short, and a grinning Jackson walked in.

“Where have you been?” she exclaimed, her face brightening as setting the glass down she sprung to her feet to greet him.  “I looked all over for you.”

Jackson slid his arms around her and kissed her lips.  “Sorry I took so long.”  Pulling back, he pushed a strand of hair back from her face and watched her tenderly.  “I got talking to this old buddy of mine, from years back.  Didn’t know he worked on this gig now.  Anyways, he played the recording of the song back for me, you know, so I could watch you from every angle and…”  His smile broadened gleefully as he licked his lips.  “You were fucking amazing out there.  Magnificent.”

“Jack―” she protested, somewhat embarrassed in front of Rez.

“She was, wasn’t she?” Rez said. 

Jackson’s hold on Ally seemed to tighten as he turned toward the manager with a start. 

A smile on his face, Rez moved toward the door.  “I need to go talk to the producer some more, so I’ll see you tomorrow?  My office at ten?”

Ally gave a stiff nod.

“Don’t forget to tell Jackson the good news.”

Glancing at Jackson, Rez dipped his head once, then walked past them and let himself out of the room without a backward glance.

“What good news?” Jackson asked, his eyes narrowed as the door closed.

She told him about the release of the single, and whooping Jackson lifted her up in the air and twirled her around.  She laughed.

“That’s great,” he said, planting a kiss on her lips as he put her down.  “That’s fucking great.  I’m so glad it’s all working out, you know?”  His smile faded, and he shrugged his shoulder a little diffidently.  “I’ve been…feeling so guilty for what I put you through…well, you know, at the Grammys and also for what happened afterwards when I came home after rehab―”

“It’s okay,” she said in a whisper, brushing her hand to his cheek, “I know.”

“―and the way you put your career on hold for me like you did…” he went on, talking over her, and blew out a long breath.  “Well, it’s been weighing on me.  You really deserve to come back stronger.  I’m so fucking happy for you.”

She watched him solemnly, lovingly.  “Thank you.”

Smiling again, he stroked her face.  “So, everything okay between you and Rez?”

“I don’t know.”  With a sigh, she moved away and grabbed her purse, found the packet of saltines inside and took one out.  As an afterthought, she turned and held the packet out to Jackson, who took one too. “He was nice to me,” she said, wincing at the thought as she bit into the cracker, “ _Too_ nice.  It was just fucking…weird.  Unsettling almost, you know?  I didn’t know how to…respond.  How to act around him.  I―I'm not sure what to make of it.  All I know is that I don’t…trust him.”

Jackson gave a thoughtful nod, then began to eat the cracker.  “You feeling sick?” he then asked suddenly, concernedly.

She shook her head.  “Just hungry.”

He looked around the room.  “I can go get you something more―”

“Nutritious?” she asked, teasingly.  They shared a smile, and she finished her mouthful.  “No, this is fine.  I can feel my energy levels picking up already.  Rez said you spoke to him?” she went on when Jackson reached for a bottle of water. 

Nodding, he averted his gaze and after sitting down in the seat Rez had vacated drank from the water thirstily.  “Don’t be mad,” he said, refocusing on her afterwards.  “I just…wanted to smooth the waters a little, you know?”

“What, like?  No hard fucking feelings?” she said, her tone curter than she’d meant as she dropped down into her chair.

With a sigh, he put the bottle down and motioned for the packet of crackers she passed over to him.  Slowly, and she knew he was stalling and picking his words carefully, he eased a cracker from the packet and then another, which he gave to her, and ate it his silence.  “This is a tough industry,” he finally said, holding her gaze steadily.  “Right now, Rez is the guy who’s taking you places.  You got to work with him.  I wanted to show him that I’m fine with that, but that I’m around.  That I have your back.  Always.” 

Her expression softened lovingly, gratefully.

“Come on,” he said, putting the last of the cracker in his mouth as he pushed to his feet, “I’m hungry and crackers won’t do it. Let’s get out of here.”

“What about Dad and Ramon, the guys?”

“Let them enjoy the rest of the show.  They can meet us at home afterwards.”

“Home?”

The ghost of a smile twitched at his lips.  “I may have organised a little something.  But it’s supposed to be a surprise, so act like you don’t know.”

She pretended to lock her lips and throw away the key. 

His smile broadening cheekily, devilishly, he touched his finger to her nose, and she pulled a face at him.  “You did more than kick ass out there,” he went on quietly, repeating words she’d spoken to him that very morning.

“You did too.”

He scoffed.  “Yeah, well, sorry about that. I didn’t want to steal your thunder.”

“You could have said no.”

He paused.  “Did you want me to say no?”

“No, not at all. That’s not what I meant.  I think what you did was real brave.  I think it was a step you needed to take.  I just worried it would be too soon.”

He gave a nod.  “Me too.”

“I was real proud of you.  _I’m_ proud of you,” she amended in a whisper, smiling softly.  “But why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you, distract you from your performance, you know?  You were already so nervous.  And I didn’t want Rez to get wind of it.”  He laughed.  “And that way it kind of…looked more genuine.  Not like we were pulling a fucking stunt.  The look on your face, Ally, when you thought I was going to…just come on set.  That wasn’t rehearsed.”

She looked away self-consciously.  “Yeah, well, like I said, I was worried about you.”

“I know,” he replied, coaxing her chin up so he could look at her face. “Seeing the care, the love on your face like that for everyone else to see, well, it made my heart…”  He took a breath and touched his hand to his chest, fishing for a word that seemed to elude him before finally settling on, “Soar, you know?  I don’t know, it gave me confidence and courage.  Anyways, enough about me.  Today’s about you.” 

“Okay.  Well, if it’s about me, then I’d like to go for a walk on the beach somewhere.  Away from all this, away from everyone for a little while.”

His face lit up.  “Now?”

“Why not?” 

“Dressed like this?”

“Why not?” she repeated.  “What’s stopping us?”

Jackson laughed.  “Nothing.”

Ally kept the dress on, just swapped her red heels for her more comfortable black ones and packed up her case again.  She knew she should take the stage makeup off, that in the real world it would look out of place, but she didn’t want to waste time.  She just wanted to be out of there and spend some alone time for her husband.  After greeting a small group of fans that were waiting backstage, signing a few more albums, T-shirts and autographs, and posing for a few pictures, with and without Jackson, they got inside the SUV and Jackson told Phil to take them to Malibu beach.  They were almost there when undoing his seat belt Jackson leaned forward. 

“Can you pull up over there?” he told Phil.  

Ally frowned.  “I thought we were going to the beach.”

“Where exactly?” Phil asked, glancing in his rear-view mirror as he began to slow down.

“Outside the burger hut on the left,” Jackson said, pointing, and checking his mirrors Phil did as bid.

“What are you doing?” Ally asked, looking around uncertainly.

“I told you; I’m hungry.  I’ll just grab a burger or whatever and we'll be on our way.  You want something?”

“I’m okay.”

“Phil?”

“I’m good too, thanks.”

Phil parked up and, opening the back door, Jackson checked his pocket to make sure he had his wallet before leaning forward to kiss Ally on the mouth.  “I won’t be a minute.”

“Maybe grab me a soda, okay?” she called before he shut the backdoor.

Ally caught Phil’s eyes in the rear-view mirror and they shared a smile.

“How did it go?” Phil asked.

“How did what go?”

Phil laughed.  “Ellen?”

“Oh.”  She gave her head a shake.  “It went well, I think.” She shrugged. “They’re going to put the segment on YouTube, so you can see for yourself if you want.”

“I will.”  He turned around on his seat so he could look at her directly.  “Jack’s looking good,” he went on a little cautiously, nodding toward the burger hut.

Ally looked through the window toward where Jackson stood ordering from the menu on the wall.  “He’s doing real good actually,” she replied, refocusing a soft smile on Phil.

“I’m glad to hear it.  He’s a great guy.”

Ally’s gaze narrowed.  “You two known each other long?”

Phil pursed his mouth as he pondered his reply.  “Twenty years maybe?”

“Twenty years?”

“Give or take.  I used to be his roadie.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Phil laughed.  “I did, I swear.  Ask him when he gets back.”

“What happened?”

“I got married, then kids came along and the touring, well, it became too much so I stopped.  We met up again about five years ago when I got this gig.”

“My father’s a driver,” Ally remarked.

“I know.”

She smiled.  There was a knock on the window and Ally opened the door.  “There’s your drink,” Jackson said, and she grabbed the can that was precariously perched on top of his food.  She slid over to the other side and Jack got in.  While Phil drove on to Malibu Beach Ally sipped at her drink while Jackson inhaled his burger and fries.  “It’s really good,” he said, chewing, “You sure you don’t want a bite?”

"I'm okay."  She glanced at the fries on his lap and grabbed a few she quickly shoved into her mouth.  Laughing as she chewed, she reached over to wipe a little sauce from the corner of his lips before bringing her finger to her mouth and licking it off.

“Oh, you’re so sexy, Mrs Maine,” Jackson mouthed, winking before checking the rear-view mirror to make sure Phil wasn't watching.

The day was still overcast, the beach not as busy as it might have been on a sunny day, and while Phil waited for them in the parking lot, they took off their shoes, Jackson his socks too, and hand-in-hand walked down the beach to the water’s edge.  The tide was out, and gentle waves lapped at their feet, the water cold and reinvigorating.  Jack rolled up his pant legs to his calves and they set off at a leisurely pace along the sandy shore.  Lost in their own thoughts, they didn’t speak for a long moment, simply content to enjoy the scenery, the walk and peace and quiet, a much needed reprieve after all the excitement of the last few hours.  Only Charlie was missing.

“You know, I don’t think I commented on your hair,” he said, as reaching a rocky outcrop at the end of the beach they stopped to sit down. 

The onshore breeze was blowing said-hair about her face and, smiling, she pushed it out of her eyes.  “You like it?”

“I like it.  Bet it pissed Rez right off.”

She laughed.  “He didn’t say if it did.  Didn’t care much for the dress though, that much was clear.  You know,” she went on musingly, “if I’d had a beard, I’d have shaved it off too.”

He laughed.  “Glad we’re on the same page.” 

He held her gaze for a moment longer before, a soft, contented smile on his lips he reached up his hand to her face and stroked it tenderly.  Then he leaned over for a gentle kiss and the smile lingering on his lips turned to stare at the ocean stretching out before them.  Smiling softly, she watched him watch the ocean for a long moment, watched the sky and bobbing waters reflected in his sunglasses, wondered at his thoughts.

Picking up his hand, she scooted closer to him and when instinctively he put his arm around her she leaned her head on his shoulder and watched the ocean too.  It wasn’t long until, just like him, she was entranced.  His face lighting up suddenly, he pointed his hand to a point over to their right.  Ally turned and watched as a silhouetted sailboat glided across the horizon way off in the distance.  Its sails were full, the sea wind urging the boat southward along the coast.

“Do you ever think about leaving it all?” she asked, thinking how easy it would be to buy a boat and just leave all their troubles behind.  “Like, sailing off into the sunset without looking back?”

“I get fucking seasick,” he deadpanned, turning toward her, and she laughed.

“Seriously,” she went on.

With a sigh, he turned back to the ocean.  “No,” he replied after a beat and shook his head.  “Never.”  He turned to look at her and smiled.  “Despite how fucked up I am inside right now, I’m happy here with you, with Charlie.  I wouldn’t want it any other way.  Things are looking up, right?”

“Right.”

“Your career that I derailed is back on track, and then there’s the baby to look forward to.”  His smile widening, he looked down and lowered his hand to her abdomen.  “This tiny life we’ve created. This second chance you’re giving me.”

Turning her attention back to the ocean, she gave a thoughtful nod.

“Why?” he then asked.  “Do _you_ think about packing up and leaving?”

“No,” she replied simply, looking over to him.  “Everything I want in life is here.”

The breeze blew harder, fresher suddenly, causing her to repress a shiver, and he tightened his hold around her shoulders.  “We should head back,” he said.  “Before it gets too cold.” 

She gave a soft nod, and after she’d brushed sand from her dress they set off again, retracing their long line of footprints in the sand.

“You going to be okay tomorrow?” he asked as they reached the car lot where Phil was waiting.

She frowned.  “Tomorrow?”

“With Rez and the radio interview and stuff.  I mean, I can change my plans―”

She stopped dead in her tracks.  “Absolutely not.  You need this time alone with Bobby, it’ll be good for the both of you.  I’ll be fine on my own.”  She smiled. “Besides I have Charlie to keep me company.”

“I’m going to miss you.”

Her expression softened.  “I’ll miss you too.”

His door open, Phil was sitting at the wheel, watching something on his cell when they got back.  Intent, he didn’t see or hear them approach and motioning for Ally to keep quiet Jack leaned inside the cabin to take a look at what Phil was watching.  Turning toward Jackson with a start, Phil shut off his cell.

“One of these days you’re going to give me a heart attack!” he exclaimed, his head shaking in disbelief as he pulled the buds out of his ears.

“So now you're watching videos of my wife?” Jack asked, nodding toward the cell in Phil’s hand. 

Looking a little sheepish, Phil glanced at Ally and nodded his head.  "I was just checking out the Ellen YouTube channel, but the song's not there yet.  And then I got sidetracked."

Jackson's face pinched with suspicion, or was it jealousy?

"Jack!  Stop it!" Ally whispered, her head shaking in disbelief as she nudged Jack's arm, and then addressing Phil, “Won't be put on until tomorrow at the earliest.  Come on, let’s go home," she told Jack, who opened the backdoor for her. "Sorry, Phil,” she went on, giggling as she made to get in, “but we’re going to put sand everywhere.”

Phil let out an overlong, overdramatic breath.  “Just…keep your feet in one place, will you?” he said, feigning annoyance.

The journey home took hardly any time, and Phil pulled up behind the two black limos her father, Ramon and the guys had travelled in.  Bobby’s truck was parked in front of them, and shaking her head Ally looked over at Jack.  “How many people are coming?” she asked.

“Just them, I promise, and Phil if he wants to.”  Jackson turned toward Phil.  “Come in for an alcohol-free drink and a bite to eat.  It’s only a small…gathering to celebrate Ally’s return to the limelight.”

“Oh, I don’t know, but thank you.”

“Please, Phil,” Ally insisted.  “It’s the least we can do after we dirtied the car.”

“Oh, alright, then.  But I won’t stay long.”

Ally and Jack picked up their shoes while Phil got her case out of the trunk and walked barefoot down the path leading to the kitchen.  The contractors had finished for the day, and everything was just a little _too_ quiet.

“Remember to act surprised,” Jackson whispered in her ear as she reached the open sliding door, and she smiled. 

Charlie came rushing over to her, and she bent down to return his greeting.  When she stood up again, everyone had gathered around and began cheering and clapping.  She scanned her eyes over all the joyful faces and overwhelmed by all the love and affection she saw reflected back at her couldn’t stop tears forming in her eyes despite the wide grin on her face.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Lorenzo asked with concern as he stepped forward.

“Nothing’s wrong, Dad.”  Smiling a little shakily now, she looked at everyone again, reached down her hand to stroke Charlie who had jumped up on her.  “I’m just…happy.”

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m borrowing another song, Creed’s 'With Arms Wide Open', and as usual the lyrics are in italics in the text.
> 
> I hope you enjoy. It feels a little disjointed to me.

Ally woke the next day to an empty bed and an urgent need to pee.  Bright sunlight was filtering in through the curtains and she smiled at the fact that the weather had brightened up for Jackson and Bobby’s camping trip.  She stretched and sat up, checked the time on her cell and, thinking that Jackson was out walking Charlie, got up and padded barefoot to the bathroom.  In the kitchen, she grabbed a banana from the bowl, peeled it and as she took the first bite thought back to the previous night.

All traces of the party had been cleared up.  Well, party wasn’t the right word for it, it had been a gathering of their loved ones, a quiet but happy and relaxed affair that meant more to her than any fancy parties she’d ever gone to.  Once she’d recovered from her shock, she’d greeted everyone and then changed into more comfortable clothes and taken her makeup off. Jackson had ordered hors d’oeuvres – an assortment of chicken and beef skewers, avocado toasts, crab wontons and other canapés from Duke’s restaurant in Malibu - Bobby had been there to take receipt of, and soft drinks had flowed freely. 

Because Bobby hadn’t heard it yet, she’d played the song at the piano again and everyone had watched, entranced.  Then they’d taken the conversation to the patio and backyard, and Jack had proudly showed the hole he’d had a hand in digging and where the pool was to be built.  When they were on the beach that afternoon Jack had said that things were looking up for them and she wanted to believe it with all her might.

The smile of recollection lingering on her face, she moved to the fridge and was taking the milk out when Charlie wandered in, not through the open sliding door as she would have expected if he’d been on a walk but from inside the house.  She finished her banana and frowning bent down to stroke him.  “Where’s daddy, huh?” she asked, turning away when Charlie eagerly began licking her face.

Charlie stepped back from her and, as she stood, walked out of the kitchen, seemingly keen to show her where Jack was.  Smiling, she reached for a glass from the cupboard and filled it with cold milk.  Milk was the in-thing right then, replacing her customary glass of sweet tea which itself had replaced her morning cup of coffee, and she figured if her body craved it then it was good for her.

“Jack?” she called, as glass in hand she came out of the kitchen.

“In here,” came his quiet reply.

Frowning, she followed the sound of his voice to the den and found him there, sitting at the desk in front of the laptop in semi-darkness.

“What are you doing?” she asked softy, setting her glass on a nearby shelf as she walked over to the window, “Alone in the dark.”  She opened the curtains, letting much needed sunlight in.

He turned toward her and winced, and she angled the blinds so the sunlight wasn’t so blinding.  “I was―”  He paused, hesitating, then closed the laptop lid.

A look of puzzlement registered on her face, and then it came to her.  “You looking at porn?” she asked, grinning.

“No,” he exclaimed, sounding and looking shocked that she should think that, “What the fuck?  Ally, no.”

Picking up her glass, she shrugged and took a sip.  “I mean, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you were.”

He pulled a face at her.  “I wasn’t looking at porn.”

She pinched her lips to stifle the smile that wanted to escape.  “So what?” she asked, once again sipping at the milk.

His gaze averting, he sighed.

Her eyes narrowed quizzically, worriedly, and again she set the glass down on the shelf.  “Jack? What’s wrong? Did something happen?” She took a step toward him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.  “Is it bad news?”

Looking back up, he shook his head in reply.  “No, nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?”  When he didn’t immediately reply, she dropped her hand from his shoulder.  “Jack, you’re scaring me.”

“Don’t be mad,” he finally said, fully swivelling around toward her, and sighed.

Her frown deepening, she reached past him to open the laptop before thinking better of it.  “What is it?” she asked again, meeting his cautious eyes.  “Tell me.”

“I got an email―”  Taking a deep, fraught breath, he scrunched his eyes shut and scratched at the stubble on his cheek.

“Jack, come on.  Stop fucking around and tell me.”

He reopened his eyes and gave a slow nod.  “You know how we―we talked about…looking your mother up, right?”

Her shoulders sagged.  “Oh, Jack, no.  Come on!  You looked her up?” she exclaimed with disbelief.

“Well, _I_ didn’t, no.”  He winced.  “I hired a private investigator to do it.”

“What the hell, Jack?  But why?”  Moving away from him, she began to pace.  “I told you, I’m not ready.  There’s so much going on right now and―”

“Ally, I know that,” he said, standing up and taking her by the shoulders to stop her pacing.  “I just wanted to see if he could actually track her down, you know?”  He dipped his head to catch her eye.  “Just find out where she lives.  What she’s doing.  If she’s even alive.  It’s been so long.”

His words gave her pause.  “I’m not―I don’t think I’m ready to―is the email from _her_?”

“Sweetie, no.  It’s from the PI – some guy Bobby knows from way back.”  He sighed.  “I’m sorry I went behind your back.  I just thought I’d get the ball rolling, that’s all.”

She gave a nod, considered the implications.  “And has he?” she asked fearfully.  “Has he found her?”

Jackson shook his head.  “Tracking her down isn’t going to be as straightforward as I thought.”  He paused, sighed.  “I just…want to help you,” he went on softly, pleadingly.  “If you got some answers about how she is now, if you knew she got better and stuff, then that’d take some of the worry off, right?”

He stared at her probingly and Ally gave a grudging nod. 

“I mean, looking her up, finding out about her, it doesn’t mean that you have to do something about it.  You wouldn’t have to make contact unless you wanted to.  Not until you were ready to.”

Her gaze averting, she gave another nod.

“I mean, aren’t you even a little bit curious?”

She refocused on him sharply.  “Sure I’m curious, but what if she doesn’t want to be found, huh?  What if she rejects me again?  What if she’s got a brand-new life with a brand-new family?  If she wanted to make contact she could have done.  I mean, I’m fucking famous for crying out loud.”

Jackson tried but failed to stifle his amusement, and she punched him lightly in the side.  “Don’t,” she said, smiling too.  “Don’t you dare fucking compare me to a fucking diva.”

His smile broadened.  “I won’t.”  He paused and his expression sobered.  “Maybe she moved out of state,” he went on earnestly, “Or even abroad. Maybe she doesn’t realise that the Ally on the billboards and on the fucking television is her daughter.”

Ally gave a sigh.

“Or maybe she’s scared,” he added quietly, “Scared to make contact with you.”

“Scared?”

“Think about it.  Maybe she thinks _you’ll_ reject her, for what she did to you and your Dad when she abandoned you.”

Again his words gave her pause.  “So,” she said in a sigh, nodding at the laptop, “What does the email say?”

“Nothing.”  With a sigh, he dropped back down into the chair, pushed it back and motioned for her to sit down on his lap.  Then he opened the laptop, typed in his password and she read the email.  

“I’m going to have to speak to Dad,” she said.  “Apart from her name and middle name, I don’t have any of the information this…Stuart Daniels wants.”

“He’s the best in his field,” Jackson said, “Or so Bobby tells me, and he’s discreet.”

“You met him?”

He shook his head.  “We spoke on the phone once and did the rest via emails.  Like I said I was just―”

“Getting the ball rolling, I get it.”

Wrapping his arms around her midriff, he nuzzled his face into her neck.  “You pissed at me?”

She turned her face toward him and shook her head.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

His lips on her skin caused her to repress a shiver.  “It’s okay.”

“The search might come to nothing, you know.”

“But it might not,” she replied quietly, turning back to the email.

Jack reached over to close the lid on the laptop.  “Let’s not think about this now, okay?" Smiling he nuzzled her neck again. "It’s still early, let’s get back to bed.”

 

Ally was clearing up breakfast when there was a rap on the sliding door glass.  “Hello, Mrs Maine,” the contractor said, a smile on his face when she looked up.  “Jack gone already?”

“No, not yet.  He’s in the bedroom packing.”  She paused.  “Why?  Is everything okay?”

“Sure.  I just need a word, if it’s okay.”

“Sure.” 

Sauntering into the kitchen, Charlie made a bee-line for the contractor, who knelt down to greet him.  “Hello, pal,” he said, stroking between his ears.

“I’ll go see where he is,” Ally said.

“I’ll be in the yard.”

After putting the dishwasher on, Ally made her way to the bedroom and found Jackson there, packing clothes into a rucksack.  With a sigh, she sat down at the edge of the bed and picked up his washbag she handed over to him.

“What’s up?” he asked softly, taking the washbag from her and stowing it in the bag.

“Marty’s here.  He wants to speak with you.”

“Oh, okay.  Did he say what about?”

Ally shook her head.  “You know he doesn’t talk to me about pool stuff.  As far as he’s concerned, you’re the man.”

Laughing, Jackson moved his rucksack to the floor and sat down on the bed beside her.  “You okay?”

The corners of her mouth turned down into a pout.  “No,” she replied, dropping her head to his shoulder and he opened his arm around her.  “I’m going to miss you.”

“Why don’t you come with us?”

She scoffed.  “And crash yours and Bobby’s little tête-à-tête?”  She turned her face up toward him.  “No.  This _time_ , it’s for you and Bobby.  It’s just that, well, like, it’s the first time we’re going to be apart from each other since―since, well, you know, you went to rehab.”

Lapsing into silence, Jackson nodded his head.  “It’s going to be fine, Ally.  _I’m_ going to be fine, okay?”  Dipping his head forward to look at her, he smiled.  “Bobby’s planned this trip like a military operation.  And you’re just at the other end of the phone, right?”

Her smile returned.  “You’d better remember it.”

“I will, I promise.  What time’s Phil coming?”

“Half-nine.” 

He gave a nod and after pecking her lips pushed to his feet.  “Bobby will be here soon.  I’d better go and see what Marty wants.”

She finished getting ready and was in the bathroom styling her new hair when she heard Jack and Bobby talking in the kitchen.

“Hi Bobby,” she said, smiling as she joined their side.  “You’re all set to go?”

“Just waiting for Jack.”

“Everything okay with Marty?” she then asked Jackson.

“Sure.  I told him you were the man while I was away.”

She smiled and shook her head, and he winked at her. 

“I’ll just go and grab my bags,” he then told Bobby.  “There’s a crate with food and drinks and camping gear in the garage, if you want to start loading up the truck.”

“Sure.” 

Bobby headed out, and Ally followed Jack to the bedroom.  She watched from the door as he shouldered his backpack and picked up the sport duffel that contained his sleeping bag, a pillow and a couple of towels.  Ally reached for his ball cap from the dresser and passed it to him.

“You got your cell?”

He checked his back pocket and nodded his head.

“Your charger?”

“Yep.”  He gave her a smile and dropping the bag moved to hug her.   "I won't forget to call, I promise," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

They held each other tightly for a long moment before she pulled back from him decisively.  “Come on,” she said, “Or Bobby will be wondering what we’re up to.”

“Let him wonder,” Jack said, waggling his brow suggestively.

Bobby was waiting by the truck, talking to Charlie, when they got outside.  Tail beating enthusiastically, Charlie sauntered over to them, and Jackson put his bags in the open truck bed.  He turned back to Ally watching and bent down to make a fuss of Charlie who was hovering by her feet uncertainly.

"He thinks he's coming with us," Bobby said.

“You’re staying here with Mommy,” Jackson told the dog, picking him up in his arms. “You’re the man of the house now, so you be a good boy, okay?”  He lifted him up so he could look at him as he spoke.  “I’ll only be gone a couple of days and I don’t want to find any holes – anywhere – you hear?  Stay in the pen.” 

Realising that that was what Marty's talk to Jack had been about, Ally smiled and shook her head in disbelief.  Putting Charlie back down, Jack glanced at Bobby and then looked at her and picked up her hand. 

“You look after yourself, okay?” he said, smiling a little melancholy as his gaze briefly dropped to her stomach, and she knew he was including the baby in that one statement.

Returning his smile brightly, she nodded her head.  “I will.  Don’t worry.”

“There’s plenty of food in the fridge and―”

“Jack, I know,” she said, cutting him off, “I was there when we went to the store, remember?”

Pausing, he gave a nod.  “I’m going to miss you,” he went on with a heavy sigh.

“Oh, come on, Jack,” Bobby said.  “We’re only going for a couple of days.  You sound like you’re going to war or something.”

Ally laughed, and Jackson pulled a face at his brother.

“Have a good time,” she said with a look encompassing the two brothers, “And look out for each other, okay?”

“We will.” Bobby walked over to hug her.  “Don’t worry about Jack,” he said in her ear.  “I got his back.”  He pulled back, then looked over at Jackson who was waiting his turn to hug Ally and walked around to the driver’s side. 

“It’ll go by in a flash,” she said brightly, noticing his hesitation.  “You’ll see.”

Jack nodded his head, then pulled her into his arms and held her to him for long seconds. 

“I love you,” she said into his good ear.

Jackson tightened his hold on her before letting go suddenly and turning to open the truck door.  Bobby fired up the engine and he climbed in, Ally shutting the door behind him.  Bending down, she took Charlie in her arms. 

“Have a great time!” she called.

Jackson powered down the window and as Bobby began to reverse leaned out for one last kiss.  Laughing, Ally stepped forward and as their lips met Charlie began licking their faces.  She moved back and taking Charlie’s paw in her hand waved them goodbye.  Bobby put the truck in drive and turning in his seat Jack mouthed the words _I love you_.  Waving, she followed the truck to the track until it gathered too much speed and she stopped.  She stood there, holding Charlie in her arms and staring at the track long after they’d gone.  When she went back inside the house, a text message was waiting on her cell.  She smiled – _I miss you already._  

 

“No Jack?” Rez asked, standing and looking past her as she closed the door to his office.

“No,” she replied lightly.  “No Jack.  He’s…gone camping with Bobby.”

Rez registered a look of surprise.  “Camping, huh? Oh, okay.”  He motioned for her to sit down, then walked around his desk to a side cabinet.  “You want a drink?  Some breakfast?”  He glanced over his shoulder.  “The Danishes are fresh.  The coffee too.”

Ally watched Rez suspiciously.  “I’ll just have a glass of water, thanks.”

Rez filled a glass he put on the corner of his desk for her.  “You sure I can’t tempt you with a Danish?  They’re from Copenhagen Pastry.”

Unsure what to make of this somewhat uncharacteristic pleasantness, she paused.  “Oh, alright then. Thank you.”

“Apple?  I’ve also got blueberry or cinnamon.”

“Cinnamon would be nice.”

Rez put a braided cinnamon pastry on a small plate for her, then sat back down at his desk with a cup of coffee.  Hesitantly, she leaned forward and tore off a corner of the treat.

“So first,” he said, putting his cup of coffee down, “I’ve got some excellent news.  I had a call last night from Jimmy Kimmel’s people.”

Her face lit up with surprise.  “Jimmy Kimmel?”

Rez nodded excitedly. “They heard about your performance on Ellen and they want you on the show.”

“Oh, wow!”  And then it came to her.  “But Ellen’s not even aired yet.” 

“What can I say?  Word travels fast.”

“When?”

“Not sure yet, but soon.  We’re talking days.”  He frowned.  “Why?  You’re not planning on going anywhere, are you?”

“No,” she said, reaching for her water.  “I just want Jack to be back for it.”

Nodding, Rez picked up his coffee and took a sip.  “I’ll let you know as soon as I know more,” he went on, setting his cup down and turning to his computer screen, “I should find out some time today.  So, this summer’s schedule?”

Quickly, she finished her mouthful.  “I took a look at the copy you emailed me and―”

He lifted his finger to cut her off. “I’ve added a few more dates since,” he said, flicking through a pile of papers.   

“Oh.  All local?”

Finally, he located a print-out he handed over to her.  “To the west coast, as per your instructions, yes.  Seattle is the furthest but I figured that Jack could go with you.”

Scanning her eyes over the schedule, she nodded her head, then a date right at the end of the list caught her eye and she frowned.  “I can’t make the Joshua Tree festival in October,” she said, looking up at an expectant Rez.

“Why not?” he asked, surprised.  “I mean, I know it’s not Coachella but it’s only…a couple of hours drive from here and right at the end of the season.  A day trip at the most.”

She paused, hesitating.  “It’s a great opportunity, I know, but Jack’s doing a slot at the Austin City Limits festival that weekend,” she said confidently, even though Jack was still to make a final decision.  “And I’m going along with him.”

His expression becoming thoughtful, Rez gave a slow nod.  “What if…”  He refocused on her sharply.  “What if I managed…to get you to play there too?”  He shrugged.  “Would that work for you?”

She pondered her reply.  Maybe if Jackson knew she was playing there herself, he’d be more willing to take part. “I don’t know,” she said.  “I mean, could you?  Isn’t like ACL booked years in advance?”

Rez smiled.  “Sure, but it doesn’t hurt to try.  Besides, there’s always artists pulling out at the last moment.”

Ally gave a nod.  “I don’t know,” she said again, still uncertain.  “I mean, it would be Jack’s comeback.  I wouldn’t want to―”

“Eclipse him?”

Her expression darkened.  “No, that’s not what I meant.  I could never…eclipse Jack.  At his best, Rez, he is the best.  A much bigger star than I am.”

“Maybe he’s…past his best, Ally,” Rez said, his gentle tone belying his words.  “I mean, don’t take this the wrong way and I don’t mean for my words to hurt you but sometimes you’ve got to face facts and…

“Jack’s working on new material,” she cut in decisively.  “It’s stronger, edgier, rawer than anything he’s done before.  He and his band are going back to the studio soon.  I wouldn’t write him off just yet.”

“I wasn’t writing him off,” Rez said.  “And I’m glad he’s bouncing back.  He looked good yesterday.  It’s just that I don’t want you to…miss the boat, you know?”

Her gaze averted.

“Think about it, okay?  Better still, talk it through with Jack.  I won’t do anything until you give me the go-ahead.”

She refocused on him with surprise.  “Thank you.”

Rez paused.  “While we’re alone and I’ve got the opportunity,” he went on hesitantly, and she frowned.  His eyes lowered to her stomach briefly before he brought them back to her face.  “There’s something else I want to talk to you about.”

Ally sat up straighter expectantly.

“It’s been nagging at me for a while now and well…there’s a rumour, some gossip online that you may be pregnant.”

Unsure how to play it, Ally kept silent.

“Someone claiming they’ve seen you at some…clinic or another.”  He laughed somewhat awkwardly.  “I mean, that’s all it is, right?  Gossip?  Because let me tell you a pregnancy at this stage, just as I’m about to start renegotiating the terms for your second album with the label―”

Rez’s desk phone rang, cutting him short, and he picked it up abruptly.  “Yes?”  He listened briefly before asking, “Is the room ready?”  And when the reply was clearly affirmative, “We’ll be right there.”  Hanging up, he turned to Ally. “Randall Roberts is here – from the LA Times.  He’s up first.”

Committing the name to memory, she gave a nod. 

“Ready?” he asked, standing, and she followed suit. 

She drank the last of her water.  “I just need to use the bathroom first.”

Rez had a moment’s pause.  “Sure.”

Let him have his suspicions, she thought then, she’d confirm the news – to him and everyone – when she was good and ready. 

 

It was late afternoon by the time she got home, and she was exhausted.  She’d given four back-to-back interviews to LA-based newspapers and magazines at Rez’s office and then they’d driven to the studios of KIIS-FM in Burbank, part of the iHeartRADIO group, for a radio interview that would be broadcast the next day.  Unlike with Ellen, she kept to her script, and Rez seemed pleased with the result.  After thanking Phil, she let herself into the house and greeted Charlie who was waiting for her behind the door. 

“Let me get changed and we’ll go for a walk, okay?” she said, making of fuss of him. 

Straightening up, she kicked off her heels, dumped her purse and sunglasses on the kitchen island and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.  She drank her water, then under Charlie’s watchful eye got changed into some slacks, put on her sneakers and a ball cap on her head.  Back in the kitchen, she checked her cell – still no reply from Jackson – and picked an apple from the bowl.  She looked at the cell in her hand, then at Charlie, waiting tail wagging by the door, and with a sigh put the cell back down.

“Come on then,” she said, picking up her keys and sunglasses.

She and Charlie skirted around the building site to the back gate and munching on her apple she set off down the familiar trail.  The sun was still high in the sky, warm on her skin after a day spent in air-conditioned buildings and she felt herself relax almost immediately.  She was about to fork off when realising Charlie wasn’t by her side she turned around to look for him.  He was waiting by the back gate, looking toward the house.

“Come on, slowpoke,” she called.

Charlie looked over to her, then back at the house dolefully.

“Come on,” she called again, and then when Charlie finally sauntered over, “You’re missing your daddy, huh? Me too.”

Immediately as they got back she changed Charlie’s water, then checked her cell and found a text from Jack waiting.  A smile of anticipation forming, she retrieved the message.  _Service bad, sorry. Really happy about JK. You home?_  

Smiling, she composed her reply and was about to send it when she tried calling him instead.  When the call went straight to voicemail, she sighed and hung up and sent him the text.  _I am.  Having fun?_

She waited a beat and when his reply wasn’t instantaneous took the cell to the bathroom.  She was taking care of business when it chirped with another text.  Smiling, she picked up the cell from the floor.

_Depends on your idea of fun.  You?_

She smiled.  _Took Charlie for a walk.  We missed you._

While she waited for his reply, she flushed and washed her hands and made her way to the living area where she curled up on the couch with the cell and her bottle of water. _Miss you too,_ chirped not long afterwards.

She sighed.  _So no fun?_

_Plenty of fun.  Just fucking exhausted._

She was composing her reply when the cell rang in her hand.  Startling, she smiled at the name on the display and connected the call.  “Jack?  I thought you said you had bad service.”

“I did, at the campsite.”

She frowned.  “Where are you?”

“On the beach, by the roadside.”

“I thought you said you were tired.”

He scoffed.  “Tired?  I told you.  I’m fucking exhausted.  I thought we’d have a quiet afternoon acclimatising but no.  Big brother had other plans.  Had us trek all 6.5 miles all the way up to Point Mugu and back.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m still pumped actually.  Just sore.  And Bobby wouldn't let me have the keys to the truck so I had to hoof it here too.”

She laughed.  “Just to talk to me?”

“Just to talk to you,” he echoed softly, a smile in his voice.  “But, sweetheart, it was worth it.  Your voice is like honey to my blistering skin.”

She winced. 

“Not my best metaphor, huh?” he laughed, and briefly she wondered if he was watching her on camera.  “But the views from the top?” he went on eagerly.  “Ally, it was worth it just for them.  It’s ridiculous scenery.  I’d forgotten how beautiful it was, or maybe I never noticed first time around ‘cause I never took the time to properly look.  And it’s so quiet.  I can hear all my fucking thoughts so clearly.  And they’re good thoughts, Ally.  Good thoughts.”

Hearing him being so happy and enthusiastic brought tears to her eyes.  “I’m glad to hear it.”

“I’m going to bring you here, Ally, you got to see how magical the place is for yourself.”

“I can’t wait,” she said, a wistful smile on her lips.

There was a pause.  “Anyways, enough about me.  Congratulations on Jimmy Kimmel.”

“Thank you.  I mean, it’s not definite yet.”

“Rez will make sure it happens, don’t worry about that.  How did it go with him today?”

She shrugged.  “It was…fine.  Good actually, like finally he’s come around to my way of thinking.”

“Maybe he has.”

She made a musing sound.  “The jury’s still out on that one. He knows about the baby.”

“You told him?”

“No, and I didn’t confirm his suspicions either.  It’s just…there’s some gossip on social media.  That time at the clinic.”

“He’s going to find out soon anyway.”

“I know."  She thought about bringing up the festival in Austin, ask if he'd come to a decision about taking part, but he sounded so happy that she thought better of it.  "And Bobby?” she asked instead, changing tack. 

Jack laughed.  “He’s cooking us dinner.  I’m washing up.”

“Oh, the joys of camping,” she said, laughing.

“Listen,” he said. “I’m going to have to head back.”

“Oh, okay.”

“I told Bobby I’ll be like five minutes and that was twenty minutes ago.”  He paused.  “I’ll call again tomorrow, alright?”

“Sure. I l―”

“I love you,” he said, stealing the words right out of her mouth.

She smiled.  “I love you too.  Give Bobby a hug, and tell him to take it easy.”

“On me?  Too right.”

She laughed.  “On himself.  He’s not as young as you are.”

“Too fucking right he isn’t.”

She hung up with a heavy heart, then got up off the couch and tossed her cell back in her purse.  Charlie was laying in the shade on the tile floor, and she picked up his food bowl off the mat and put more kibble in it.

“Sorry, buddy,” she said, when he joined her side and she put the bowl down for him.  “No steak tonight.”

While Charlie ate his dinner, she put hers to heat up in the oven, then sat down at the piano and stroked her hands to the keys.  Charlie walked up to her, and scooting over she patted the space beside her on the bench and he jumped up.  He was missing Jack as much as she was.  She gathered him into her side and with a sigh played a few notes with her right hand. 

When she looked up, she noticed a stray sheet of paper on top of her songbook on the piano top.  Frowning, she reached up for it and read the lines Jackson had written down.  They looked to be verses to a song that didn’t have a title or a chorus yet.  There was no music to go with it, no chords or key, just lines of words.  A leaving present, she wondered? After all, hadn’t he done the same thing when he’d gone to rehab and left the lyrics to _I’ll Never Love Again_ for her to find?

 _Well I just heard the news today_  
_It seems my life is going to change_  
_I close my eyes, begin to pray_  
_Then tears of joy stream down my face_

 _Well I don't know if I'm ready_  
_To be the man I have to be_  
_I'll take a breath, I'll take her by my side_  
_We stand in awe, we've created life_

And as she read the words and understood the meaning, realised that the song was about their unborn child, her eyes filled with tears.  The lyrics was joyful, hopeful, mirroring his current mood and it warmed her heart.  Gone was the self-loathing of the other new songs he’d been putting down on paper, the feelings of inadequacy, worthlessness and failure that had been so intrinsic to his spirit up to now.  Had he really turned a corner?

 _If I had just one wish_  
_Only one demand_  
_I hope he's not like me_  
_I hope he understands_  
_That he can take this life_  
_And hold it by the hand_  
_And he can greet the world_  
_With arms wide open_

She put the sheet on the piano stand, and lowered her hands to the keys.  It was almost as if her fingers were moving by themselves as she played a few notes, then tried a few chords until she hit upon the melody she’d first heard Bobby and then Jack play.  Hadn’t he said that the melody was one their father used to play but never put into a song?  Could her subconscious be trying to tell her something?  Quickly, before she forgot the chord progression, she grabbed her cell, disturbing Charlie in the process, tapped on the Voice Memo icon and set it to record.

The smell of burning brought her back to the present.  She frowned, then remembering her dinner was in the oven swore and sprung to her feet.  She opened the oven, grabbed a mitt and took out her dinner she quickly dropped on to the stove.  With a sigh, she turned the oven off and surveyed the damage, decided her meal was unsalvageable and turned to Charlie waiting on his hind legs by her feet.

“Oh, Charlie,” she said, laughing.  “We are missing Daddy, aren’t we?”

Her cell vibrated on the piano top and she reached for it.  It was her father.

“Hi Dad,” she replied, trying not to sound disappointed that it wasn’t Jackson again.

“I taped The Ellen Show today.  Do you want to come over so we can watch it together?  Make an evening of it?”

Her face lit up.  “Sure.”  She looked at the charred remains of her dinner.  “I’ll grab us a pizza on the way.”

“I hoped you might say that.”

She hung up, reached for her purse and put her cell in.  “Come on, Charlie,” she said, looking inside the bowl where Jack kept the keys to the truck.  “We’re going to see Grandpa.”

Little did she know that this new-found happiness would be short-lived.


	27. Chapter 27

Stirring in her sleep, Ally snuggled up closer to a warm Jackson sound asleep behind her. A faint dawn light filtered in through the curtains, telling her subconscious it wasn’t quite time to wake up yet, and a long sigh escaping her lips she buried her face deeper into the pillow.  Jackson shifted, his arm draping possessively around her, tugging her closer to him still until she laid curled flush against him. His warmth breaths tickled the back of her neck, then his lips as they brushed the sensitive skin there.  Her body stirred, rekindled, awakened, and she smiled and repressed a shiver all at once and let out a long, satisfied breath, almost a moan that came from deep within.

His lips were soft and gentle, tentative, and needing more than what he was offering she turned her face toward him. He moved behind her, pulling back slightly, repositioning himself so that his lips could trace a path along her collarbone while the hand draped over her slipped underneath her T-shirt. Without pausing, he gently stroked feather-like fingertips up her side, over her growing belly and around the curve of her breasts, teasing one and then the other. His touch, gentle as a caress, was nearly not enough.

He took his time, his hand gradually straying closer to the sensitive peaks, a gasp forming on her parted lips when he caught a nipple between his thumb and forefinger while his lips continued their onslaught on her neck and shoulder, on her senses. She reached back her hand to touch him, stroke him, feel him hard and twitching in her hand. When sucking in a quick breath he tensed and paused, she released him and slowly, lazily turned around toward him, sinking deeper into the mattress as instinctively she opened herself up to him.

He moved on top of her, lifting himself up on his forearms while gently nudging her legs open with his knee.  Her hands moved to his strong shoulders, in turn gripping and pulling, stroking and kneading, while his hand slid between their bodies down over her stomach to her parted legs, brushing up and down the length of her inner thighs, skimming tantalisingly close to her warm core.  She opened her legs wider and arched up her body and he slid two fingers inside her.  

Her moans and groans came loud and quick, building in intensity, a perfect echo of her growing pleasure as her body twisted and writhed against him, seeking release.  On the very edge of her orgasm, she opened her eyes to look at him, only to close them again as finally her body tightened and convulsed with sheer abandon **.**  When spent and sated she reopened her eyes, he was smiling lovingly at her. She lifted her hands to his face and, reaching up, kissed him softly on the mouth.

Without breaking the kiss, she wrapped her legs around his waist and easily guided him inside her with her hand, causing him to groan into her mouth. Pausing, he pulled back from the kiss, took her by the wrists and gently held her hands above her head while he began to move inside her, thrusting slow and deep at first, before gradually gaining in speed and intensity until suddenly he stopped and she felt him shudder and shake and tremble between her legs.

Laughing, he collapsed on top of her before releasing her wrists, planting a kiss on her shoulder and rolling off her. They took a moment to catch their breath, and then she turned onto her side and he shifted behind her, moulding his body to hers with his arm loosely draped over her. Their bodied were sweaty, entwined, perfectly melded into one as a smile on her face she dozed off again, only to stir again at the sound of her cell ringing.

Ally woke up with a start and a smile on her face. Deeply content and satisfied, she turned over expecting to find her husband beside her, but finding instead warm shaggy fur.  Her smile faded, morphing into a puzzled frown as she returned to the here and now, but soon formed again as vivid recollections of their lovemaking flooded her brain.  Wondering whether maybe Jack had come home early and just slipped into bed beside her, she sat up and looked around the darkened room but all was as she’d left it the night before.  

Charlie got up and shook himself, and she watched as he got off the bed, then wandered out of the bedroom.  Unsure of what exactly had happened, she felt her fingers to her lips, brushed them down to her chest, to the stickiness between her legs.  Her body was still tingling with the afterglow of the lovemaking they had shared. Her orgasm had felt – still felt – so very real.  A wet dream, she realised then, that was what must have happened, because she knew women had them, just like men did, but with much less frequency.

Could being pregnant have something to do with it, she wondered then?  She'd had sex dreams before, but never a nocturnal orgasm, not as intense as that one anyway, or at least she didn't think so.  If she had, she'd certainly had no recollection of it in the morning.  Her cell was still ringing on the bedside table, and chuckling with disbelief she reached for it to check the display.

“Oh, my God, Jack,” she said, laughing as she connected the call, “you’ll never fucking believe what just happened!”

Charlie came back into the bedroom, caught her eye and headed out again, his message clear, and as she regaled Jack with the details of her dream she got up to let Charlie out into the yard. Laughing as she talked, she headed to the bathroom and as she lowered her shorts to take care of business caught her reflection in the mirror. Her hair stuck out all over the place, and there was no mistaking the soft glow on her cheeks.  She took care of business and made her way to the kitchen.

“Well, I dreamt of you too,” Jackson said finally, “Except not as vividly.  Thank God, ‘cause Bobby and I are bunking together.” 

She laughed.  “You think it’s because of the pregnancy?”

“What, the dream?”

“Yeah.”

“Or maybe you missed me just a little bit, no?”

Her expression softened lovingly.  “More than just a little bit.”

He laughed again before adding excitedly, “Congratulations!”

Her hand on the fridge door, she frowned.  “You’re congratulating me on my first wet dream?” she asked, taking the milk out and putting the bottle on the counter.

“No, silly,” he said, chuckling.  “I’m congratulating you on your first time on Jimmy Kimmel Live.”

“Oh,” she said, a flush creeping up her neck. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t text back last night,” he went on, and she grabbed a bowl and the box of Cheerios from the cupboard.  “Only your message came after we’d crashed out for the night.”

“That’s okay.  I was at Dad’s when Rez called to let me know.”  Wedging the cell between her ear and shoulder, she poured cereal and then milk into the bowl. 

“He must have been over the fucking moon – your Dad, I mean.”

Smiling at the recollections, she grabbed a spoon from the drawer and took her breakfast to the patio.  “He was.  He’s working tonight, otherwise I’d have tried to get him tickets.  Ramon said he’d try to swap shifts.  I mean, it’s okay if he can’t.  It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal?  Ally, of course it’s a fucking big deal!”

She scooped cereal into her mouth.  “I mean, it’s just like a five-minute interview,” she said, chewing.  “I’m just filling in for someone who dropped out at the last minute.”  

“Hell, at least you get to go on the show, right? That’s better than fucking Matt Damon has ever managed!”

She laughed at the reference, then brought another spoonful to her mouth.  “Rez said there isn’t enough time for a song.”

“That’s okay.  You’ll get more time next time.  They’re going to love you, Ally.”

“Thank you.  Hang on,” she then said, “let me put you on speaker so I can have my breakfast at the same time.”  Setting the cell down next to her bowl, she did just that.  “Can you hear me?”

“Sure,” he said.  “I can hear you.  It’s quiet this end.”

She shovelled more cereal into her mouth.  “You’re down at the beach?”

“I am.  I went for a jog actually.  Been up since four.”

“Four?”

“It’s been so long, I’d forgotten how loud Bobby is.”

“He talks in his sleep?” she asked, her mouth full.

“No,” Jack said, laughing.  “He snores.” 

“Oh.”

“I should have brought some earplugs, or better still my Peltor ear defenders,” he went on, still laughing. “That would have done the trick.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” she said, feeling bad on Bobby’s behalf. 

“Maybe not.”  He paused and when he spoke again his voice had lost all trace of levity. “I’m thinking maybe I should come back for the show tonight.  You know, to support you.  I mean, do you want me to come back for it?”

“And what?  Cut short your trip?  I don’t think so.”  Her bowl finished, she reached for her cell again and took it off speakerphone.  “It’s going to be fine, Jack.  As I said it’s only an interview.  I’ve done so many now, I know the script off by heart.”

“Still.”

“Rez’ll be there anyway.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.  I’m more worried about what to wear! I can’t wear the same dress I wore on Ellen.  And most of my own clothes are getting too tight around the waist already. I don’t want to give the game away; it’s too soon.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something.  Talking about Ellen, you watched the clip yet?”

“I did,” she said, smiling with pleasure.  “Last night at Dad’s. It’s still fucking strange watching myself like that on the television. It seems like I’m all grown up now.”

“Oh, you’re all grown up, alright,” Jackson said, his tone soft and introspective.   “You told him we’d hired a PI?”

“We?” she repeated in a scoff.

“ _I’d_ hired a PI.”

“I did,” she said in a sigh.  “He said he thought it was coming.  He gave me her social security number and stuff like that.  I still don’t know, Jack,” she went on wearily.

“It’s okay, sweetie.  Don’t think about it now.”

She sighed.  “Anyways, how’s it going with Bobby?” she then asked, opting to change tack before the mood turned, “Aside from the snoring, I mean.”

“It’s going good actually.  You were right, we needed this time together.”

“So you two talked?”

“Sure we talked,” he replied, chuckling.  “He asked for the ketchup and I passed it to him.”

She laughed. 

“But yeah,” he went on softly.  “We talked about stuff.  A little.”

“You sound good,” she said when he lapsed into silence.

He paused.  “I _feel_ good.  Better than I’ve done in fucking years.”

She gave a nod.  “I found the present you left for me by the way.”

“What present?” he asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.

“The song?  On top of the piano?  _With Arms Wide Open?”_

“Oh, is that what it’s called?”

“Well, isn’t it?”

He paused.  “I wrote a chorus for it last night.”

“You did?” 

“Huh, huh.  After we talked. I mean, it’s in my head, ‘cause I didn’t think to bring anything to write on and Bobby wouldn’t let me write on the map.  But yeah.”

“Well, I got a melody for it and some chords.  I recorded it on my cell.  I mean, you don’t have to use them or anything, if you don’t want to, but I was just…sitting there at the piano and my hands just like started to move over the keys and…”  She trailed off with a sigh.  “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.  Listen, Ally, if I don’t get another chance, just be yourself tonight on Kimmel and you’ll knock them dead.”  He paused.  “You sure you don’t want me to come?  I mean, I could drive to the studio and then drive back here afterwards. I’m sure Bobby’ll let me borrow the truck.  We’re talking what?  A couple of hours?”

“Jack, thank you, I appreciate the offer, but no.  I’ll do this one on my own.  I’m all grown up now, right?”  Her smile faded.  “But I’ll text you afterwards, okay?  Maybe you can…walk down to the beach again and call back?”

“I look forward to it.”

She gave a nod.  “I’d better go,” she said, getting up and picking up her bowl, “And try to find something to wear.”

“Remember to have fun, okay?  On Kimmel.”

“I will.  You have fun too.  And take it easy.  And don’t forget to take plenty of water with you.”

“We won’t,” he said, laughing.

 

“Ally, you need to make your way to the green room,” a producer said, popping her head through the door to Ally’s dressing room.  “We’re starting in ten.”

“Okay, sure,” she said, smiling a little nervously.  “Thank you.”  And then to Rez after the producer had gone.  “Shit, I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

“It’s going to be fine,” Rez said.

Checking her reflection in the mirror one last time, Ally nodded her head.

“You look fine,” Rez said.  “What’s got into you, huh? 

“I don’t know!”

“I haven’t seen you like this since, well, since you went solo.” Pausing, Rez covered the distance between them and took her by the shoulders.  “Is it because Jack’s not here?  I mean, it’s not the first gig you do without him.”

“I know.”  She took in and blew out a long breath.  “You’re right,” she went on, stepping out of his grasp, “It’s going to be fine.”

Rez gave a nod.  “Come on, then.  I know Jimmy Kimmel Live’s not live, but still.”  He paused.  “Just be yourself.”

Ally scoffed.  “You’ve changed your tune.”

Rez shrugged a mild shoulder.  “You didn’t give me much choice in the matter.  Come on,” he went on, nodding toward the door. “Stop procrastinating.”

“Just…I just need to go to the bathroom.  I won’t be a second.”

“Ally―”

When she came out of the bathroom, Rez was sitting in the chair, waiting for her.  He hesitated briefly, as if he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure he should, before he pushed to his feet.  She thought he might remark on her needing the bathroom a lot recently but he didn’t. 

“Your cell rang,” he said finally.

Startling, Ally went to her purse and rooted for her cell.  “It was Jack,” she said, looking up with a frown. 

“Probably wanted to wish you good luck.”

“He would have left a message.” 

“Maybe he pocket dialled you by mistake,” he said quickly, dismissively.

Quickly, she connected a call to Jackson, but it went straight to voicemail and she hung up.  “He said he didn’t have reception in the mountains.”

“Maybe he’s back at the campsite. Who knows? Come on, you don’t want to be late.”

Giving a grudging nod, she stowed her cell back in her purse and followed Rez to the green room where along with the other guests, some she knew of, others she didn’t, she watched Jimmy Kimmel do his monologue and then waited her turn.  All the while, she thought about Jack’s phone call and why he hadn’t left a message or even sent a text if he’d managed to get a call through to her.  When her name was called she went to stand in the little closed box that opened out onto the stage and when the door lifted up she stepped out to rapturous applause and stood awkward and astonished until Jimmy Kimmel came to greet her.  The interview went well, Kimmel as easy a host as Ellen to talk to, immediately making her feel at ease.  He – or his team – had done his research well and, just like she did, he kept to the pre-arranged script.  Just like on Ellen, her segment went by in a flash, and when it was over Kimmel leaned over to her and jovially asked about Jackson and how he was doing. She answered truthfully.

“That was good,” Rez said when she came off stage.  “Well done.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll see you in the dressing room,” he said, glancing away when someone called his name.

She gave a nod and made her way to the dressing room.  Immediately, she reached for her purse and retrieved her cell, checking if Jackson had called again.  He had, and this time he had left a voicemail.  Smiling in anticipation she connected to it.

“Bobby fell ill,” he said, clearly shook up, and the smile died on her lips.  There was a lot of background noises – loud voices all talking at once as well as what she thought was a helicopter starting up – and struggling to make out his voice Ally turned the volume up and brought the phone closer to her ear.  “They think it's a heart attack.  It’s bad, Ally, bad.”  There was a pause and she pressed the cell closer to her ear.  “They’re flying him to the hospital,” he went on, his voice breaking, full of emotion.  “The one in West Hills.  I’m going with him.  I’m scared, Ally, I’m―”

“Mr Maine,” a voice shouted, cutting him off, “We’re ready!” And the call went dead.

“Ally?” Rez said, startling her.  “Is everything okay?”

Stunned, she turned toward him.  “No,” she said, choking up. 

“What’s happened?” Rez said, covering the distance to her.  “Is it Jackson?”

Looking at the phone in her hand with disbelief, she shook her head.  “Bobby’s had a heart attack.  They were taking him to the hospital when Jack called.”  She swiped at her screen, checking when Jack had left his message.  “Oh, God, that was over an hour ago.”

“Is he going to be all right?”

“I―I…don’t know,” she replied, and swiping at the screen called Jack back.

“Which hospital?” Rez asked.

“West Hills.”  The call connected and as she heard the first ring she closed her eyes.  “Come on, Jack, pick up.  Pick up,” she begged in a breathless whisper, and then when his voicemail kicked in, “Come on!”

“You go,” Rez said, putting a hand on her shoulder, “I’ll reschedule the meeting with the label, okay?”

Nodding to Rez, she turned away.  “Jack, it’s me,” she said into the phone, trying but failing to keep the tears from her voice.  “I got your message.  I’m on my way over now, okay?  You hang tight.  I’m on my way.”  She was about to add, “It’s going to be okay,” when she thought better of it.

“I just spoke to Phil,” Rez said when she hung up, and waved his cell about, “He’s waiting for you.  Round the back.”

She hurriedly packed her case and gathered her purse. “Thank you.”

Rez opened the door for her, and she rushed past him and down the corridor.

“Ally?” Rez called.

Stopping, she turned around abruptly.

“I hope he’s okay.”

She blew out a deep breath.  “Me too, Rez.  Me too.”

It was only when she was sitting at the back of the SUV with tears running down her face, clutching her cell, waiting for news, that she wondered whether Rez had meant Bobby, or Jack.

 

“We’re there,” Phil said, turning around in his seat.

Startling, she took stock of her surroundings.  Phil had stopped right outside the main entrance to what she assumed was West Hills Hospital.  Grabbing her purse, she reached for the door handle.

“I’m going to go park and wait, alright?”

“Okay, thanks, Phil,” she managed.  “I don’t know―how long I’ll be or…I’ll call you, alright?  Let you know.”

“Sure.”

Pausing briefly, she looked at the hospital entrance through the window and wiping at her face let out a long, steadying breath before getting out.  As she hurried in, she tried calling Jackson again, but all she got was his voicemail.  “I’m here, Jack, at the hospital," she said softly, shakily.  "Where are you?”

With a sigh, she hung up and headed for the front desk took off her sunglasses and waited not-so-patiently in line for her turn.

“Bobby Maine,” she said to the attendant, her tone urgent.  “He was brought in about an hour ago?  I think he was flown in.  My husband said he was having a heart attack.”

“Let me see.”  The attendant typed a few keys, bringing up a new page on her computer screen.  “The only Maine that comes up is a Robert Maine?”

“That’s him.”

“Says here he’s in surgery.”

Ally’s heartbeat quickened.  “Surgery?  Oh God.”

“That’s upstairs on the second floor.”  The attendant pointed over to a bank of elevators, and Ally numbly nodded her head.

“Ally!”

 Ally turned with a start and watched a breathless Phil jog over to her.  “Any news?”

Wiping at more tears, she nodded her head.  “He’s in surgery.  I’m headed up there now.”  They moved away from the front desk toward the elevators.

“And Jack?”

“Still no news.”

She jabbed her thumb on the button, calling for the elevator.  When the doors opened, she waited for the few people inside to disembark before she went in, Phil and a few more people following suit.  She pressed the button for the second floor and as she took slow deep breaths willed the elevator to stop taking its fucking time and hurry.  No sooner had the doors opened that she rushed out.

“My name is Ally Maine,” she said breathless, when she reached the nursing station.  She felt hot and flustered all of a sudden, and frantic with worry for both Bobby and Jackson, emotions she didn’t try to conceal. “I was told that my brother-in-law is in surgery.”

The nurse gave her, and then Phil next to her, an appeasing smile.  “And that would be?”

Ally craned her neck up and down the corridor, searching for Jack, but in vain.  “Bobby―Robert Maine.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right.  They’re operating on him right now.”

“Operating on him?” she repeated, her tone fearful now.  “Oh, my God.”  She looked over to Phil who put his hand on her shoulder supportively.  “Jack―my husband,” she went on, her voice breaking as she turned back to the nurse, “said Bobby had a heart attack.  Is he going to be okay?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know.  They took him straight to the OR on arrival.  The doctors will be able to tell you more as soon as they finish.”

Ally blew out a long, steadying breath.  “And how long will that be?”

“I’m afraid―”

“You don’t know either,” she said, resignedly.

“I’m sorry.”

“And my husband?” she then said.  “Do you know where he is?  He came in on the helicopter with Bobby.”

“He _was_ here earlier, but I don’t know where he is now.  There’s a family waiting room down the corridor.  Try there.”

Ally looked over toward where the nurse was indicating before nodding her head resignedly.  “Thank you.” 

Her heels click-clacking on the vinyl floor, she hurried down the corridor, Phil in her wake, only for her heart to sink as soon as she stepped inside the waiting room.  A few people who looked up hopefully when she went in sat there waiting, but Jackson wasn’t among them.  She turned toward Phil who stared back at her helplessly. 

 “My husband’s not in the waiting room,” she told the same nurse when she rushed back to the nurses’ station.

“You could…try the café on the first floor,” the nurse said, looking up.  “Maybe he’s gone there.”  She checked her paperwork.  “We have his cell number.  We’ll call him as soon as Mr Maine’s out of the OR.”

Ally nodded.  “Can I give you mine too?” she said.  “It’s just that Jack’s not answering his cell right now and I’m worried it’s out of charge.”  Well, strictly speaking it wasn’t a lie, but she was more worried about his state of mind and the fact that the negative thoughts in his head – which she was sure had resurfaced or he would have called back by now – might stop him fromanswering the phone.

“Sure.”

By the time Ally had given the nurse her cell number, Phil had called for the elevator and was holding the doors open for her.  She didn’t know who she was more worried for right now: Bobby who was being operated on and hopefully in safe hands, or Jackson who right then had no one but his broken self.  They went down one floor.  The café was open plan and straight in front of them as they exited the elevator, and looking left first and then right Ally slowly scanned her eyes over the faces of the people sitting at the tables, or standing in line waiting to order or pay at the counter, her heart once again sinking when she saw no signs of Jack. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered under her breath.  “Where the fuck is he, huh, Phil?” she asked, tears of frustrations forming in her eyes. 

Phil sighed.  “Maybe he’s gone home.  I mean, he’s not one for hospitals, in the first place, but maybe he was worried he’d get recognised.”

She briefly considered the idea before dismissing it out of hand.  “No.  He wouldn’t have left Bobby like that, on his own, not without knowing for sure how he was, and besides he doesn’t have a car.”

“He could have called a cab.”

She shook her head.  “No.  He hasn't gone far. I know it.”

“Do you want to get a coffee while we wait?”

“What?” she asked, looking at Phil with puzzlement.  “No.  I want to find Jack.”

Looking a little conflicted, Phil sighed.  “We drove past a few bars and restaurants on the way here,” he then said.  “I mean, within walking distance.  Maybe he’s gone to one of them.” 

“Oh, God, Phil.” 

“I mean I’m not saying that’s where he is, or even that he’s drinking, but―”

“Come on, let’s go,” she said, turning back toward the bank of elevators.  “Show me.”

They rode the elevator to the ground floor, then made their way back outside.  She slipped her sunglasses on and scanned her eyes around the car lot and various green spaces along the edges, searching for Jack in case he had decided to wait outside, away from the crowds.   _Come on, Jack_ , she bid silently, _Where are you?_

“Sorry, I had to park a little ways away,” Phil said, refocusing her.

“It’s okay.”

“You wait here while I get the car.”

“I can fucking walk,” she snapped, setting off straight ahead.

“It’s this way,” Phil called, indicating left.

She stopped and closed her eyes.  “Sorry,” she then said.  “It’s just―”

“You’re worried about him.  I know.”  Phil extended his hand again, indicating the way and they set off at a brisk pace.

“I just hope―”  She blew a short breath.  “I just hope he’s not relapsed, that’s all.”  Tears formed in her eyes.  “He’s worked so damn hard to get to this point and he was doing so well.”

“I know.”

As they hurried toward the SUV, Phil put a comforting hand on her shoulder.  “He’ll be fine.  And so will Bobby.”

She really wanted to believe his words, but her gut told her differently, and all she could do was to nod her head.  Phil unlocked the SUV and they climbed in, Phil manoeuvring out of the space before she’d even put her seatbelt on.  They joined the main road and Phil drove a couple of blocks before he pointed to a row of bars and restaurants over to their right.  He stopped at the roadside and she got out and went in one establishment after the other, searching for her husband.  Every time, she came out with her head shaking and her hope of ever finding him further dashed. 

“Where to, now?” Phil asked, when she got back inside the car.

“I don’t know.”  Once again, she checked her cell but Jack still hadn’t made contact. 

Phil pulled out into the traffic and drove down to the intersection before making a U-turn and heading back the way they’d come.  They’d barely covered twenty yards when the traffic came to a stop.

“Just a garbage truck slowing us down,” Phil said, glancing in the rear view mirror as he spoke.  “I’m going to take a right here.”

Ally gave a nod, and Phil made the right turn into a side street.  Idly she turned to look out of the window, which was when she thought she spotted him inside a small diner.  Her gaze narrowing, she straightened up in her seat.

“Stop the car!” she called frantically, her eyes fixed on the diner plate glass window as she swivelled around in her seat when Phil overshot the place.  “Phil, stop the car.  I think I just saw him.”

“Where?” Phil asked, as checking his mirrors he pulled up a little further on.

“That diner back there,” she said, turning to look at Phil.  Without thinking, she opened the door and got out of the SUV before trotting down the sidewalk toward the diner. 

“Ally!” Phil called.

Panting, she stopped at the window, her heart sinking at the sight of Jackson sitting alone at a table just on the other side, miserably looking down at the beer in his hand as if it held all the answers to his problems.  Her heart broke for him because she knew that he would have tried his hardest to beat his cravings but that ultimately they’d been too strong to overcome.  And who could blame him, huh?  Who wouldn’t want to lessen their heartache and deaden their pain with a drink? 

“It’s him!” she called, turning toward Phil, who nodded his head.

“I’m going to find somewhere to park, okay?” he said with a look at the SUV blocking the road.  “Call if―when you need me to come pick you up.”

“Thanks, Phil.”

She turned back to the window.  Jack hadn’t moved, hadn’t realised she stood just on the other side of him.  Taking in a deep breath, she moved to the entrance and pushed the heavy door open, going inside.  The server turned toward her and smiled politely at first, and then more excitedly as recognition flashed across her features.  Ally smiled back a little uncertainly, then glanced over toward Jackson, hoping her message was clear.  Please, leave us alone. 

So engrossed was he in his study of the beer bottle that he didn’t look up when she approached and she took a moment to study him before she spoke.  He looked out of place, wearing his hiking clothes – brown sturdy leather boots, brown cargo shorts and a grubby and sweaty T-shirt – and his ball cap low over his head.  His hands were dirty, fingernails crusty with soil, and the three-day stubble darkening his face emphasised how broken and downcast he seemed.

“This seat’s taken?” she asked softly, and gave him a small smile when he looked up with tears in his eyes.

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay with this next update. I hope you're still out there, interested, and that you'll enjoy. :)

“Oh, Jack,” Ally gasped, sliding into the seat across from him.

She reached for his hands and releasing a shaky breath he set the beer aside and grabbed her hands with both his.  “I’m sorry,” he said in a breathless gasp, the tears that had stood poised in his eyes spilling.  “So sorry.”

She tried to keep her own tears at bay but seeing him so down, so broken made it hard.  “What are you sorry for, huh?” she said, her voice trembling as she held his pitiful gaze.  “You’ve got nothing to feel sorry for.  What happened to Bobby is not your fault.”

More tears fell, and his gaze lowered to the bottle between them.  Taking in a long, tremulous breath, he pulled his hands away from her grasp and raked shaky fingers through his hair under the ball cap.  She realised then that even though she sat across from him, hopefully offering him strength and comfort, the battle with the demons in his head was still raging. 

“Jack?” she said, her voice low and gentle, yet firm and confident, “What happened to Bobby was _not_ your fault.”

“I know,” he finally said, looking back up before wiping at his tears. “You went to the hospital?” he asked suddenly, and when she nodded softly.  “You got news?”

“No.  He's still in the OR.”

He gave a slow, despondent nod.  Sitting forward, she held her hand out to him again, but with a hard swallow he averted his eyes to the bottle, and she hesitantly drew her hand back.  The server caught her eye from behind the counter and Ally shook her head, indicating that right then wasn’t the right time, to give them a little longer.  At a loss as to how to go on from there, she turned her attention back to Jackson and the beer he was still staring at so intently.

“I haven’t―I’m not,” he began and she refocused.  He shrugged. “I mean, I didn’t drink any of it,” he finally said, glancing up but not making eye contact. 

Nodding, she stared levelly back at him.  “I’m glad.  I mean…what I mean is I’m pleased for you because I know how much staying sober means to you.”  Her shoulder lifted in a shrug.  “Either way, Jack,” she went on, her voice breaking, “I’d still be here. I’d still have come.”

She tried a shaky smile, and he nodded his head sombrely.

“To be honest,” she then said, her smile fading, “With what happened, I wouldn’t blame you if you had.  Had a drink, I mean.  It must have been―”

“I mean, I could have,” he cut in.  “I almost did.  I came close several times, like real close, bottle to my mouth close.”

She understood then his need to confess, to be transparent with the truth. Or maybe he was deliberately trying to get a reaction out of her, one that would be more judgemental, less forgiving.  He wouldn’t get it out of her.  “But you didn’t.”

“I wanted to though.”

“No, you didn’t,” she insisted calmly, yet forcefully.  “If you’d wanted to, you’d have taken that first sip.  And then another, and another after that.”  She paused so her words could sink in.  “It’s the negative thoughts in your head, the cravings, that wanted you to drink from this bottle, not you. _You_ resisted.  _You_ chose not to take that first sip, and that’s all that matters.”

He stared at her at length, before finally giving a grudging nod.  “I wanted to see if I was stronger now,” he went on, his voice cracking.

“You _are_ stronger.  You’re getting stronger and stronger every day.” 

More tears fell and he wiped the balls of his hands at them angrily.

“So what I saw before,” she went on, faking a lightness she was far from feeling, “You were staring that bottle down, staring the cravings down?”

“I guess so,” he said, a faint smile forming.  

Ally held out her hands to him again.  Sitting up in his seat, Jackson took them and smiling softly they stared in each other’s eyes.  The diner door opened behind her, breaking the spell when Jackson glanced toward it.  She looked over her shoulder and watched as two women came in, laughing and chatting, and sat down at the very next table.  Jackson pulled the ball cap further down over his face, and wishing she’d remembered to take hers she turned her face away.

“Why didn’t you wait at the hospital until I came, huh?” she asked softly.

He shrugged, then turned to look out of the window.  “I needed to get away,” he finally admitted, turning back to her.  “I needed some air.  I needed to clear my head.  I just felt― _feel_ so powerless, you know?"

Happy that he was opening up to her, she simply nodded her head and hoped that voicing and externalising his fears and negative feelings would take the edge off the cravings.

"The hospital was just too…”  Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and she knew the recollections of what happened were painful.  “I mean, I left my cell number with the nurse, I didn’t just… _go_.  I didn’t just leave Bobby on his own.”  Tears formed in his eyes again and he looked away.  She squeezed his hand and nodding his head he closed his eyes, releasing his tears.  “I should have seen it coming, Ally.”

She frowned.  “Seen what coming?”

He wiped at his eyes angrily.  “The heart attack.  A heart attack, Ally.  A fucking heart attack.”  He scoffed.  “And I never saw it coming.”

“Of course you never saw it coming,” she exclaimed, before looking around self-consciously and checking her tone. “How could you have done?”

He shrugged.  “There were signs, Ally, signs that I should have picked up on; signs that all wasn’t well, but I just put it down to his age.  He’s always been so strong, so infallible.  So much stronger than I ever was.”

“He’s still strong, Jack,” she insisted, giving his hand a squeeze.  “He’s going to pull through.  I know he is.  He’s in good hands.  The docs are going to fix him.”

He opened his mouth to object, only to shut it and give an unconvinced nod.  His gaze became distant, his jaw taut with tension, as though the events of the last few hours were replaying in his mind, and struggling to contain his pain he looked away again.  “And we were on top of the fucking mountain, with no one else around,” he went on, choking up, “and I couldn’t get cell service for such a long time.”  More tears fell and once again he pulled his hand away and his head shaking dejectedly, disbelievingly, covered his eyes. 

“You got help for him, Jack.”

“What if it was too late?” he countered fiercely, looking back up. “I wasted so much fucking time!” He glanced at the next table and checking his tone gave a long sigh.  “He didn’t collapse straightaway, you know?  I mean, come on, I’m such a fucking dickhead.  The symptoms were textbook, I _should_ have seen it coming.  The shortness of breath and we fucking joked about that, right?  Put it down to how fucking old he is, how fucking unfit.  And we were right at the top and it was fucking beautiful and we laughed at the fact that the air was so thin up there, so much purer.  Oh, Ally, I was fucking laughing at him when the chest pain came.  He was so pale, so fucking old and frail all of a sudden, and scared too.  The look in his eyes, Ally, I’ve never seen anything more chilling in my life.”  His bottom lip trembled.  “What if he dies, Ally?  What if he fucking dies?”

He pinched his lips to stop more tears from coming and looked away, and standing abruptly Ally came around the table to sit beside him.  She hesitated only briefly before she closed the gap between them and took him in her arms.  She felt his body tremble and holding him that little bit tighter to her while he cried she stroked his back comfortingly. 

“He won’t die, okay?” she whispered into his ear.  “You got him help.  He’s in safe hands now.  He’s strong, he’s going to make it.”

“My father didn’t.”

"Your father was a drunk," she almost retorted, "Bobby isn't."  But she bit her lip.  What could she say that would lessen his pain?  That it would be different this time?  That Bobby was in safe hands?  She'd said that already.  So she kept quiet and just held him in her arms, hoping it would be enough to see him through the next minute, the next hour, the next few days even.

“I carried him,” Jack said in a whisper and she had to lean even closer to hear.  “I carried him all the way down the fucking mountain and then I called for help.  I don’t even remember when the chopper came or the ride to the hospital―and they gave him medication, you know, but it wasn’t working.  Nothing was working.  The EMTs, and the docs, first thing they asked was if I knew of a pre-existing condition, you know, if he’d had heart troubles before, if he took any pills, and I knew jack shit.  I could tell them nothing.  I was no fucking use whatsoever.”

“Jack, it’s not your fault.”

“He’s my fucking brother, Ally, my only family and I didn’t even know he was sick.”

Ally considered her next words. “Maybe Bobby didn’t know either.”

“Oh, he knew alright.”

She frowned.  “Why would he have suggested you two took the trip if he knew, huh?”

Jackson scoffed. 

“For what it’s worth,” she went on, “I never noticed anything either.  I mean, I never saw him take pills or anything like that. Ever.”

Tears filled Jackson’s eyes again.  “What kind of brother does that make me, huh?”

“You were there for him when it mattered,” she said, holding his gaze steadily.  “You got him help as soon as you could.  Hell, he could have been alone some place when it happened.  And then what?”

He took a deep breath he released slowly, then closed his eyes and nodded his head.  With a start, he reached into his pocket, took his cell out and after unlocking it swiped at the screen a couple of times.

“The hospital?” she asked with worry. 

Putting the cell away again, he shook his head.  “No, just Lukas.  Why is it taking so fucking long?” he muttered tersely.

“You want to head back there?”

He shook his head.  “I’d rather wait here if it’s okay. Hospitals make me feel..."  Letting his words trail, he repressed a shiver.  

“Can I get your guys anything?” the server asked.

Ally looked around with a start.  “Two coffees please,” she said, glancing at Jackson.  “And some food.”

“Ally, I’m not hungry.”

“But I am,” she retorted, her words brooking no more argument.  She scanned her eyes around the diner, finally locating the specials board.  “I’ll have a sweet potato pancake combo – two eggs, two bacon and two sausages.”

“Ally, you’re never going to eat all that.”

“Well then, you’ll have to help me.  Or we’ll have it packaged for later.” And then indicating the beer, “And you can take this back.”

The server picked up the bottle.  “Something wrong with it?”

“No.  We just…don’t want it,” Ally said. 

“We’ll pay for it,” Jackson added, “Well, Ally will.”

The server stared at them, a wistful smile on her face before she gave a head a shake and turned on her heels.

“And you’d better tip her well too,” he went on in a whisper when the server was out of earshot.  “I don’t have any money with me.”

Smiling, Ally shook her head.  “How were you going to pay for the beer if I hadn’t come?”

His face lit up suddenly with a cheeky smile that warmed up her heart.  "My charm?  An autograph?"  His expression sobering, he beckoned her closer and leaning in close whispered, “I always knew you’d come.”

The server returned promptly, placing two cups and saucers in front of them before retrieving her coffee pot.  Ally immediately recoiled at the smell.  “You know what?” she said, as the waitress began pouring coffee into the first cup, “Can I have some iced tea instead?”

“Sure,” the server replied with a smile, picking up the empty cup and saucer.

“I thought the nausea was better,” Jackson said, when the server was out of earshot.

“It is.”  She gave him a bright smile and a shrug.  “I just...really feel like iced tea.”

Jackson smiled, then he nodded his head and turned to his coffee.  “I’m sorry I didn’t pick up when you called earlier,” he said, looking back up.

She thought back to her panic as she heard his voicemail, to the frantic car ride to the hospital and subsequent search for him.  “It’s okay,” she said, knowing that then wasn’t the time to add to his guilt.  “You did what you had to do.  I get it.”

Again he nodded.  “I feel such a…shit.”

The server returned with her iced tea and looking up abruptly Ally sat back.  “The food won’t be long,” the server said, setting the glass down. 

“Thank you.”

Jackson checked his phone again.  “What’s fucking taking so long?” he exclaimed impatiently.

Ally put her hand on his thigh.  “They’ll let us know as soon as he’s out of surgery,” she assured.

“I know,” he said, calming almost immediately, and tried a smile.  For the first time since she’d got there, he seemed to take her in properly.  “That’s nice,” he said, touching her blouse. 

“Thank you,” she replied, smiling brightly.

He held her gaze tenderly. “Is that what you wore on Kimmel?”

Smiling, she gave a nod.

“I’m just a dickhead.  I didn’t even ask how it went.”

“A shit first, and now a dickhead?”

Laughter bubbled out of him.  “Or maybe both at once?”

She laughed.  “It went well, I think,” she said, replying to his original question.  “It was just, like, short.  He wanted to know about you.  Not on air, like, but still.  They all want to know about you.”

His gaze averting, Jackson nodded his head.  “I’m sorry,” he said, looking back up and meeting her gaze dead on.

“What for?” she asked, frowning.

“They should want to know about you, not me.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she said playfully.  “I told him plenty about me whether he wanted to hear it or not.”

He laughed.  Then letting out a long breath, he draped his arm around her shoulders and bent down to kiss her on the head.  “Thank you.”

Closing her eyes, she leaned into him.  “You’re welcome.”

“There you are,” the server said, putting an oval plate of food in front of them.  Jack released his hold on Ally’s shoulders and they sat back.  The server placed cutlery rolled into a napkin in front of Ally and then did the same for Jackson.  “Anything else I can help you with?”

“No, this is great, thank you,” Ally said, already rolling her cutlery out of the napkin.

Dispensing with the cutlery, Jackson pinched a strip of crispy bacon from the plate and folded it whole into his mouth.  Smiling, Ally pushed the plate closer to him, then cut off a piece of sweet potato pancake she brought to his mouth.

“Trying to get a little practice in?” Jack asked, taking the food from her fork.

She frowned.

“For when the baby’s here?” he said, chewing.

Her expression softening, she cut up the sausage and fed herself a slice before loading her fork again and lifting it up to his mouth.  “Come on, now, open wide for Mommy,” she said in a whisper, giggling.

“Mommy,” he repeated musingly as he chewed.  “It suits you.”

“What about you?” she asked.  "Are you going to be a Daddy?  Papa?  Or pop maybe?”

“Pop?  _Pop?_ Oh, God, not pop.”  Laughing, he pinched the second strip of bacon from the plate and offered it to her.  When she shook her head, he took a bite.  “I think Daddy,” he went on, chewing.  “Dad.  I hope to god I do a better job than my father ever did.”

“You will.”

He gave a nod.  “I think with you by my side I can do anything.”

“Then, I’d better make sure to never leave your side.”

He smiled, a happy smile that grew to a wide grin, and for the first time since she got there she noticed that his eyes were once again clear, free of his demons. Laughing, she loaded her fork again and they shared the food. Jackson was finishing his coffee when he set his cup down with a clatter and fished his cell out of his pocket.  Ally put her fork down and watched as sliding his finger across the screen he connected the call. 

“Hello?” he said hurriedly, anxiously.  “Yes, it’s me,” he said after a beat, and then after another pause, “We’ll be right there.”

Ally pushed to her feet and grabbing her purse left enough cash to cover their meal and a generous tip.

“Bobby's out of the OR,” he said, putting his cell away as he got up.

“Did they say how he is?”

Jackson shook his head.  “Just that they were taking him to the ICU.”

As soon as they stepped out of the diner, Phil's black SUV appeared out of nowhere before stopping at the curb in front of them.

“Perfect timing,” Ally said, getting into the backseat first.

Jackson shut the back door and Phil drove off without wasting time.  “Bobby?” he asked, catching Jackson’s eye in the rear view mirror.

“He’s out of surgery.”

“I hope he’s okay, buddy.”

“Me too,” Jackson said bleakly before gazing out of the window.  “Me too.”

Ally put her hand on his lap comfortingly, and they drove the few minutes to the hospital in silence.

“Fuck.”

Looking over to what had caught Jackson’s eye, Ally made out a handful of what she now assumed were paparazzi gathered outside the entrance. 

“Can you pull up over there?” Jackson said, leaning forward and pointing to a spot to their right.

“Sure thing.”  Phil stopped the SUV where Jack had indicated. “I’m going to park up and wait, okay?” he said, as Jackson let himself out of the back.

“Thanks, Phil,” Ally said, sliding over to Jackson’s side to get out too.

“Ally?” Phil called, and she popped her head back in.  “Let me know about Bobby, alright?”

“I will,” she said, and shut the car door.

Jackson held his hand out and she took it.  As they neared the paparazzi, Jackson didn’t break his stride.  He just tightened his hold on her hand, almost propelling her forward when the paparazzi finally recognised them.  One camera flashed, then another, and they angled their faces downward so the photographers wouldn’t get a good shot.  Ignoring the calls of “Mr Maine,” and “Jackson”, “Ally,” and “Is it true about your brother, Bobby?”, they pushed through the small mob closing around them.  Jackson clasped Ally’s hand into his side as she struggled to keep up with him until they were past the two security guards keeping the paparazzi out of the hospital lobby.

"Fuck!  How did they find out fucking so quick, huh?"

Jackson took a breath, then scanned frantic eyes around the lobby and still holding her hand headed for the elevators.  A few people were already waiting there, and Ally heard a couple of women giddily comment on the paparazzi’s presence outside.  Keeping her head low, she glanced up at Jackson who was staring at his feet.  Both elevator doors opened at the same time, and they stepped into the left one.  Jackson looked at the control panel with dismay and Ally reached past him to press the button for the second floor. 

“I’m Jackson Maine,” he told the nurse on duty as they reached the nurses’ station.  “I just got a call saying my brother was out of the OR.”

“That’s right, Sir.  I was the one who called you.”  Glancing toward Ally, the nurse picked up the desk phone.  “I’ll call Dr Ramirez now.  Let him know you’re here.”

“How’s Bobby doing?” Ally asked.

“I’ll let the doctor tell you himself.”  The nurse began speaking on the phone and Ally draped her arm around Jackson’s waist comfortingly.  “He’s on his way over now,” the nurse went on, setting the phone down.

Jackson gave her a tight nod, and Ally thanked her.  

The doctor, when he arrived some interminable ten minutes later, was a small man well in his fifties who wore surgical scrubs and a pair of black-rimmed glasses.   “Mr and Mrs Maine?”

“Yes,” they both said, closing to the distance to the doctor.

The doctor’s hair was still damp from showering after the surgery, but it did nothing to conceal the man’s apparent exhaustion.  The smile he offered, although well-meant, was well-practised and did nothing to allay Ally’s fears about how the operation had gone.  “My name is Dr Ramirez.  I’m the cardio-vascular surgeon who operated on your brother.”

Jackson gave a nod.  “How’s he doing?” he asked, earnest.

“His condition is stable right now.”

Jackson let out a long breath, his relief evident. 

“Can we see him?” Ally asked.

Dr Ramirez hesitated briefly.  “After we’ve talked, I’ll take you to see him, but not for long.  A few minutes.”

Glancing toward Jackson, Ally gave a nod.

“So, what happened?” Jackson asked.  “What’s wrong with him?”

Dr Ramirez opened his mouth to reply, then looked around the busy corridor and opened his hand, indicating they should go to talk somewhere quieter.  Jackson and Ally shared an anxious look, then numbly followed the doctor to an empty family room.  The doctor motioned towards a couple of chairs and waited for Ally and Jackson to sit down to do the same. 

“Mr Maine, your brother’s condition is very serious," he said, speaking deliberately slowly.  "His left main coronary artery became blocked, causing him to have a heart attack.”  He paused, choosing his next words carefully.  “As you know he didn’t respond to standard, less invasive treatments and so we had no choice but to open his chest and perform emergency bypass surgery on him in order to redirect blood flow to his heart.”

“Oh, my God,” Ally said, bringing her hand to her mouth.  She turned toward her husband who was staring at the ground.  She could tell by the tautness in his jaw and the clenching of his fists on his lap that he was finding the news hard to take in.  Ally reached out her hand to his closed fist soothingly.

“The procedure involved taking a healthy blood vessel from Bobby’s leg,” Dr Ramirez went on cautiously, “and connecting it beyond the blocked artery in his heart. I am confident that the operation was successful.”

“So he’s going to be fine, right?” she said, squeezing Jackson’s hand.

“It’s too early to tell, I’m afraid.  Let’s get tonight out of the way, see how he is tomorrow. We’ll have a better idea then.”

Finally looking up, Jack gave a forlorn nod.  His gaze was vague, fixing on a point in the middle distance.

“We’re going to keep Bobby in the critical care unit for two to three days where we’ll monitor his condition and look out for complications.  He’ll be getting the best care.”

“Thank you,” Ally said, turning toward Jackson.

“What kind of complications?” he asked suddenly, as though the doctor’s words had only just sunk in.

“Usual post-op complications include bleeding, arrhythmia, infections. The risks are higher after emergency surgery than they would be, let’s say, if the procedure had been planned.  But we’re looking out for them.” 

Jackson gave a nod, then he glanced at Ally and tried a smile.  “And long term?” he then asked.  “What does it mean?”

Dr Ramirez shrugged.  “Recovery is fairly long and slow, usually around twelve weeks.  At best four to six weeks until the patient can resume driving, working and daily chores.  He’ll have a strict regimen of medication to take every day, as well as a cardiac rehabilitation programme.”

“Rehabilitation?”

“A heart attack represents a life-changing event, Mr Maine.  He’s going to have to rethink everything he does if he doesn’t want a repeat.  He’ll need to do daily exercises and he’ll be given education so that he can make lifestyle changes.  But let’s not think about all this now.”  The doctor pushed to his feet.  “I can take you to see him now, but as I said only for a few minutes.”

“Thank you,” Ally said, as she and Jackson stood up too.

“He’ll still be asleep,” the doctor warned, as they headed down the corridor toward critical care. “And he’ll have a tube in his mouth helping him with breathing. That’s absolutely normal and nothing to worry about.”

“How long will he have to keep the tube?” Ally asked.

“Until he is awake and able to breathe on his own.  Again, it will depend.”

Ally looked over at Jackson and smiled softly.  He didn’t return her smile and she worried about his state of mind.  Stopping in front of some double doors, Dr Ramirez pressed a button and they were buzzed through into the ICU.  Dr Ramirez instructed them to use antibacterial gel to disinfect their hands, then gave them a hospital gown each to wear over their clothes.

“He’s in the room over there,” Dr Ramirez said pointing to a room to their left.

Looking over to where the doctor was indicating, Jackson took a few hesitant step toward the wall-sized window and stared at Bobby through the glass.  Ally moved beside him and draping her arm around his waist watched as a nurse tended to Bobby, checking the electrodes fixed to his chest and hooking him up to the cardiac monitor were secure.

“You can go in,” Dr Ramirez said, opening the door.  “You can talk to him and hold his hand, the one not hooked up to the IV line.”

Ally nodded her head, then followed Jackson into the room.  The nurse looked up, smiling softly at them before she glanced at Dr Ramirez and nodded her head.  She turned off the steadily beeping sound of the heart monitor, then quietly left the room, shutting the door behind her.  Bobby looked so small, so frail in the hospital bed.  The bed sheet came up to his waist and Ally's eyes were immediately drawn to the large white bandage covering the incision in his chest.  For a moment, the only sound in the room was that of the quiet and somewhat soothing whoosh-whoosh of the ventilator.

Jackson looked up and round at the doctor with tears in his eyes.  When the latter nodded his head, he closed the distance to the bed before reaching out a trembling hand to his brother, only to draw it back hesitantly.  “Is he in pain?” he asked, the words catching in his throat. 

“No,” Dr Ramirez replied quietly.  “Right now he’s not feeling any pain at all.  He will feel some discomfort as the anaesthesia wears off, but the pain relief we’re administering will considerably dull that."

Swallowing hard, Jackson turned back to Bobby and nodded his head.  Then he closed his eyes and blew out a long steadying breath.  “I’m sorry,” he said in a fraught whisper, gently picking up his brother's limp hand.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t get help to you sooner.”

And broke down in sobs.

 


	29. Chapter 29

Eyes closed and head leaning back against a folded towel, Ally was in the tub dozing when she heard Charlie’s nails clicking against the tiled floor, heralding his and Jackson’s return from their walk in the hills.  A smile instinctively forming on her weary face, she opened one eye and then the other and watched the bathroom door swing open a little wider as Charlie wandered in.

“Hey, buddy,” she said, reaching over to stroke between his ears when the pooch rested his snout on the edge of the tub. “You back from your walk, are you?” She angled her head toward the door listening for signs that Jackson was coming but heard nothing.  “Daddy okay?  He’s not with you?” 

Charlie licked at her wet hand, then made for the door and looked back over his shoulder before slipping out of the room.  With a sigh, Ally sat up fully, then pushed to her feet, water cascading all around her, then carefully stepped out of the tub and reached for her robe she put on.  Still listening out for Jackson, she dried her face and feet on a towel, pulled the plug in the tub and checking her reflection in the mirror went out of the bathroom. 

“Jack?” she called quietly, looking in the bedroom.  “Charlie?”

She padded barefoot to the kitchen, glancing out the window into the darkness, before peeking inside the den and music room.

“Jack?” she called again, her heartbeat quickening with fear as belatedly she thought to check the garage.  She flung open the connecting door, only to find the garage in darkness, and felt her hand to the wall to turn on all the lights.  She scanned her eyes from the ceiling to the floor, to every dark corner, past the Harley and inside the truck, but just like the rest of the house the garage was empty.  She blew out a breath and took a moment to let her heartbeat return to a more normal rhythm while she berated herself for being so irrational.  If Jack had been in the garage, doing God knows what, Charlie would have made more of a fuss.

She opened the garage door and looked outside.  The sight of Bobby’s truck parked there twisted her heart and she swallowed.  When they’d left the hospital earlier that night, Phil had driven them to the campsite at the foot of Point Mugu.  After Phil had driven off, they’d hurriedly, and wordlessly, packed up the camping gear, the few items of clothing left out on the cots or on hooks in the cabin and loaded it all up in Bobby’s truck still parked nearby.  The drive home had been silent and rather sombre with Jack barely holding it together. 

She’d offered to take Charlie for a walk, but he’d insisted and hoping the walk would calm his nerves she’d let him go.  Her head shaking, she closed up the garage and retraced her steps to the kitchen, glancing outside through the window again before stepping out onto the lit up patio.  When she couldn’t see him from her vantage point, she carefully picked her steps down the path to the darkened backyard.  Repressing a shiver, she pulled the belt on her robe tighter around her.  Jackson was near the building site, sitting with his head bowed on a pile of rubble, Charlie at his feet.  

 _Thanks buddy_ , she thought, _you could have waited for me._ _Saved me a whole lot of worry._

She stopped in front of Jackson and, when he didn’t look up, perched herself next to him.  “It’s nice here,” she said, looking up at the starry sky.  “Peaceful.” 

She closed her eyes and her face still angled skyward listened to the cicadas sing their evening song.  When after a minute or so she opened her eyes and looked over at him, he was gazing at the sky too.  She watched his profile face for a moment, then shuffling a little closer leaned her head on his shoulder.  Without looking at her, he instinctively opened his arm out, draping it around her. 

“Talk to me, Jack.”  She looked over to him but he was still gazing at the sky. “What’s on your mind, huh?  I mean, I know what’s on your mind, obviously, but―”

He shrugged.  “This time yesterday,” he said after a beat, “Me and Bobby, we were sitting outside the cabin looking at those same stars.”  His voice cracked.  He clamped his jaw in an effort to control his emotion, and at a loss as to what to say she turned her gaze back to the night sky.  “We talked about dad,” he went on after a while and gave a mirthless laugh, “About you and the baby.  He’s so fucking stoked about this baby, Ally, you wouldn’t believe.”

She smiled.

“But mainly we talked about me.  He wanted to know about the new songs _someone_  told him about, whether I made a decision about doing the gig at the ACL.”  He scoffed.  “Even though he’s not my manager anymore he still likes to boss me around.”

Her smile widened.  “Isn’t that what all big brothers do?  And besides, he’s only looking out for you because he cares.”

“Oh, Ally,” he blurted out suddenly, his voice a mere breathless whisper. “What if he doesn’t make it?”

She whipped her head around toward him. “He _will_ make it, okay?” she said, working hard to keep the tremor from her voice.  “You heard what the doc said.  The op went well.  He is stable.  That’s all we can ask for, for now.”

Turning his watery gaze toward her, he gave an unconvinced nod.  “I keep thinking―I keep thinking that I wasted so much time, you know? Being mad at him when all he’s ever tried to do was keep me on the straight and narrow.  Being mad at him for everything I fucked up in my life.  I never thought in a million years―”  Scrunching his face as if in pain, he withdrew the arm draped around her and covered his face with his hands. 

“Oh, Jack,” she said, turning her body around so she could hold him to her when he broke down.

“There’s so much I haven’t told him,” he went on between sobs, “So much stuff we still haven’t done.”

Gently cupping her hands around his cheeks, she coaxed him to look at her.  “And you’ll get the chance,” she said, staring deep into his eyes.  “He’s going to pull through; I know he will.  And when he does, he’s going to need our help.”

With a hard swallow, he nodded his head. 

She wiped the tears from his cheeks.  "You got to stay positive."

“You’re right,” he said, staring at her intently.  “You’re right.  I’m sorry."  He looked away.  "I’m just so…fucking tired.”

“Then let’s go to bed,” she said softly.  “And try to get a little sleep.”

He turned back to the sky.  “You go.  I’ll…just stay out here a little longer.”

Making no move to leave, she wriggled her bare toes and wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the night chill.

“Shit, Ally, you’re cold,” he said, springing to his feet.

She giggled.  “My fault for not putting shoes on.”

“Go back inside or you’ll get frostbite or something.”

“Only if you come with me.”  Pausing, she stood up.  “Come on, Jack, please, come in with me.”  And then she remembered.  “There’s something I want to show you.”

When he hesitated, she held out her hand to him encouragingly and he took it.  Charlie stood up too, then shook himself and with Charlie leading the way they wordlessly walked back up the path and inside the house. 

“You hungry?” she asked, headed for the fridge while Jackson closed the sliding door behind them.  “You want me to make you a sandwich or something?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“A drink?”

Watching her closely, he shook his head and she took out the bottle of milk from the fridge before reaching for a glass and pouring milk into it.

“Still craving milk?” he asked, a smile in his voice.

Looking up as she brought the glass up to her lips, she smiled broadly.  “I can’t get enough of the stuff.  When I was on Kimmel and the assistant asked what I wanted to drink I almost asked for a glass of milk.”  She gulped half the glass down.  “Do you think it means I’m deficient?”

A wide grin breaking across his tired face, Jackson covered the distance to her.  “No.  I just think our baby’s growing to be big and strong.”  He reached a thumb to her mouth and wiped over her top lip with it.  “You got a milk moustache,” he explained when she frowned at him suspiciously.  Grabbing the lapel of her robe, he pulled her to him and kissed her lips.

“Not too big, I hope,” she said, in a scoff, pulling back from him. 

“The baby,” he asked teasingly, “Or the milk moustache?”

Pulling a face at him, she play-punched him in the arm.  “Quit it,” she said, pouting, “You know how I worry I’ll never be able to push a baby out of me, let alone a big one.” 

Jackson’s expression softened lovingly.  “It’ll be fine,” he said with confidence, tapping his index finger to her nose.  “This baby’s going to be a tiddler like you.”

She put her glass down on the island.  “A tiddler?  A _tiddler_?”

“Yeah, a tiddler.  You know…”  Grinning, he lifted her up in the air and she wrapped her legs around his waist.  “It’s like a sma―”

“I know what a tiddler is,” she said, moving in as if to kiss him, “And I’m not sure I like it.”

“Oh, but I love it,” he said, his lips vibrating against hers.  “I love that you’re so small I can lift you up and hold you like this in my arms. All of you.”

“And the baby.”

“And the baby,” he repeated softly.

“What if the baby’s big-headed like you, huh?”

Jack cocked a brow at her, indicating he’d picked up on the double entendre, before he burst out laughing.  “Then you’ll have your work cut out.”

“ _I’ll_ have my work cut out?”

“ _We_ ,” he amended.  “We both will.”  His expression sobering, he stared at her deep in the eyes.  “I love you so much,” he said, pressing his lips to her forehead.  “And I love this baby you’re carrying so much already it hurts.”

A tender smile spread across her face. “And we love you too.”

Tears sprung to his eyes suddenly, and she relaxed her legs from around him while he gently lowered her to the ground.

“Jack, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said, his smile trembling.  “I’m just…”  His shoulder lifted uncertainly.  “It’s nothing.”

“Jack, please,” she insisted.  “Tell me.”

Again he shrugged, then he flicked his eyes from her face to her stomach.  “I was just thinking―well, I hope Bobby gets to meet him, or her, that’s all.” 

She touched her hand to his cheek.  “He will, Jack.  I know it's hard, but you got to think positive.” 

Jackson gave a slow nod, and she picked up her glass and drank the rest of the milk.  “Come on,” she said, moving to put the glass in the dishwasher, “Let’s go to bed.”

He paused.  “You said you wanted to show me something.”

She frowned briefly, before it dawned on her what he was talking about.  “It can wait until tomorrow.”

“But I can't,” he said, laughing.  “Just show me already, then we’ll go to bed.”

Taking his hand, she went to sit down at the piano.  “Sit down with me,” she bid when she saw him hesitate, patting the space on the bench beside her, “And I’ll show you.”

He took his place next to her, and closing her eyes she tried to recall the melody she’d composed for his song and recorded on her cell.  Ready, she took a breath and began playing.

“Stop,” he said, after she’d played a few notes, putting his hand on her right one, stilling it.  “I recognise this tune.  I―”

Alarmed, she looked over to him, but he looked fine, just puzzled and distant.

“It’s the tune I heard you play a few times.  Bobby’s played it too.  You said it was something―”

“―my father used to play.”

She nodded.  “I just changed the key and added a few notes and…I mean, you don’t have to use it if you don’t want to.  I just thought it could work as a melody for, you know, your new song.  If you don’t like the idea―”

“No, I like the idea,” he said softly, keenly, his eyes intent on her face.  “I like it very much.”

She paused. “Why didn’t you…ever write the melody in a song before?”

A smile formed, twitching at his lips.  “Maybe I did.”

She frowned, quickly played through his back catalogue but came up blank.  “Did you?”

His smile widened.  Tapping the side of his nose with his finger, he half stood, checking the top of the piano before locating the lyrics to the song he’d left there.  He scanned his eyes over the words quickly, then pursed his face favourably and laughing turned toward her.  “Okay, maestro. Start again.”

While she played, he sang the first verse in a whisper, moving his face, his mouth, closer and closer to her until his lips vibrated against her ear and she shivered.  “You’re so fucking sexy,” he sang on, in the same key.  “I want to make love to you.”

Lifting her hand off the keys, she pulled a face and turned toward him.  “I’m pretty sure that’s not how the song goes,” she remarked, slightly chastising.

“Fuck, I hope to God it isn’t,” he said, bursting into laughter.  “The song’s about our unborn kid, Ally!  What do you take me for?”  His expression became sheepish, then very earnest. His gaze lowered to her chest as his hand lifted to the lapel of her robe and he slid a finger along its length, lightly skimming over her skin.  “No, I―I just find you really, really sexy right now in your half-open robe and messy hair.”  He looked back up.   “And I really, really want to make love to you.”

A lump formed in her throat, excitement and anticipation in equal measure. “What happened to waiting, huh?”

Standing, he put the sheet of lyrics away and looking very solemn held out his hand to her, the deep yearning in his eyes silencing her protestations.  She recognised his need – the need to be touched and comforted, the need to feel loved and connected to someone _._   When she stood, he bent down and lifted her up in his arms again, this time the way he’d done when they’d got married and he’d carried her over the threshold of their hotel room.  

“I promise to be real gentle,” he whispered in her ear.

-

Ally woke up the next day to the sound of her husband speaking.  Briefly she wondered if he was talking to Charlie but the staccato of his voice told her otherwise.  Frowning, she got up, slipped on her robe over her naked body and went to the kitchen.  Cell glued to his good ear, Jackson stood at the sink with his back to her.  Padding over to him, she put a gentle hand on his shoulder and startling he turned around.

“The hospital?” she mouthed.

Refocusing on the conversation, he gave her a nod.  “Okay, thanks,” he said.  “We’ll be there for ten.”

“Good news?” she asked, when he hung up.

“Depends on what you mean by good news.  He’s not awake yet, well, not properly, but there were no complications overnight. Oh, and also they took out the breathing tube, so he’s breathing by himself.”

“Well, that’s good news, Jack.  Real good news.  What time is it now?”

He checked the time on his cell.  “A little after seven-thirty.  Visiting hours don’t start till 10.  You’re okay to come with me, right?  I mean, you don’t have anything planned, do you?”

She smiled.  “Nothing that can’t be moved.”

He tossed his cell on the island, then reached inside the fridge for the bottle of milk.  “We’re almost out,” he said pointedly.

“Don’t blame me,” she said, grinning as she pointed toward her stomach.

He made a musing sound.  “Eggs for breakfast then.  But first I’m going to grab a shower.”

“Hey, hey,” she said, holding him back by the waist when he rushed past her.  He turned around and she tapped her lips.  “Kiss first.”

A grin splitting his face, he willingly complied.  “I won’t be a minute.”

While he headed to the shower, she finished the milk, then fished her cell out of her purse and reread Rez's message.  _Visiting Bobby this morning,_ she typed.  _Can’t meet with the label.  Either postpone or go alone._

No sooner had she sent the text than her cell vibrated in her hand.  With a sigh, she checked over her shoulder and moved to the patio to connect the call. 

“Ally,” Rez said without preamble.  He sounded slightly out of breath, and from the slapping sound of his feet she realised he was on the treadmill.  “I can’t keep postponing.  That’d be the third time.  Besides, I’m flying out to New York this afternoon, you know that, and I won’t be back until next Wednesday.  We’re running out of time.  It has got to be this morning.”

Charlie wandered over from rummaging inside some bushes and she gave him an absent-minded stroke. “I can’t make this morning, Rez.  I just can’t.”

 “Listen,” he went on, his tone appeasing now, “I don’t want to get in a fight with you.  I know you’re worried about Bobby―”

“Too right I’m worried about Bobby.”

“―and that you want to be there for Jack but―”

“No buts, Rez.  Jack needs me right now.  Either the label waits, or you go alone.  I don’t care.”

“You don’t trust me to go alone.”

She paused.  “You know, what?  Right now, it doesn’t matter whether I trust you or not.”

“Ally?” 

Ally spun around. 

Jack stood there, leaning against the edge of the sliding door, watching her.  “What’s going on?”

She sighed.  “Rez, can I call you back?” she said into the phone, and hung up.

“We spoke about this, Ally,” Jackson said.

“Spoke about what?”

“Risking your career because of me.”

“That’s not what I’m doing, Jack.  It’s one meeting.  One meeting that doesn’t have to be today.  Bobby’s sick.  I’m coming to the hospital with you and that’s that.  I’m not doing it for you.  I’m doing it for Bobby.  Same as I would do it for my Dad, or Ramon.  Or anyone I care about.”

His expression softened.  “What time’s your meeting?”

She shrugged.  “Ten.”

Jackson took in a breath he let out slowly.  “What if you ask Rez―”

She dropped down onto one of the patio chairs.  “Jack―”

“What if you ask Rez to see if he can push the meeting back to the afternoon, huh?”  He picked up a second chair and moved it next to hers.  “That way you can come with me to the hospital and also meet with the label, and keep everyone happy.  We can ask Phil to pick you up from the hospital and drive you straight to wherever you need to be.”

“Rez is leaving for New York in the afternoon.”  Ally’s cell vibrated in her hand, startling her.  “It’s Rez again.”

Jackson cocked a brow, and beaten Ally sighed and connected the call. 

“Okay, before you shoot me down again,” Rez said, “hear me out, okay?  I think I have a solution that can work for both of us.”

She glanced at Jack, who moved closer so he could hear, and she put the call on speakerphone.  “Okay.”

There was a pause.  “So, I just checked and there’s a later flight to New York I can get, so if I could arrange for the meeting to be at, let’s say 1.30pm, would that work for you?”

She glanced at Jack, who nodded his head fervently at her.  “Sure,” she finally said.  “That would work for me.”

“Okay.  So unless you hear from me again, I’ll pick you up myself from the hospital.  Oneish.  I’ll text when I’m there.”

“Rez, no, I can―” But Rez had hung up.  “Shit!”

Jack pinched his lips, stifling his smile.

“You two conspiring against me?” she asked in a sigh, putting her cell down on the table.

“Great minds think alike, what can I say?  I’m starting to like the guy,” he said, laughing as he pushed to his feet.  “Come on, I’m hungry.  Let’s have breakfast.  How do you want your eggs?”

-

“Hi,” Jackson told the nurse on duty when she got off the phone.  “We’re here to see my brother.  Bobby?”

The nurse smiled at Ally before she refocused on Jack.  “Sure.”

“How is he?” Ally asked.  “When Jack called earlier the nurse said he’d had a good night?”

“He did.  He woke up a little earlier, but he’s still very groggy and was sleeping last time I checked on him.  Which is absolutely nothing to worry about,” she added, flicking her gaze back to Jackson.  “Dr Ramirez is running late, but he will come to talk to you as soon as he can.”

“That’s okay,” Jack said.  “There’s no hurry.  I’m not going anywhere.”  He looked over his shoulder toward the unit.  “Can we go and see him now?”

“Sure.  I’ll take you to him.”

In the room, Jackson took Bobby’s hand and squeezed it gently.  “Hey, buddy,” he said, smiling softly as he looked at his brother’s face.  “It’s me, Jack.  Ally’s here too.”  He glanced over to Ally uncertainly and she smiled encouragingly.  

Bobby stirred a little, his eyelids fluttering before opening and then shutting again, and glancing at Ally again Jackson swallowed.  Bobby made a sound, a small groan that refocused Jackson sharply, then his unfocused eyes slowly flickered open and he weakly moved his hand inside his brother's. The two brothers met each other’s eyes, as if a silent conversation passed between them. 

“How you feeling?” Jack asked.

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck,” Bobby croaked. "What do you think?"

Jackson’s eyes averted as he pinched his lips, stifling his laughter, and putting her hand on his back Ally stepped forward a little more.

“Hey, sweetie,” Bobby went on, blearily refocusing on her.

She smiled warmly.  “Hey.”

“All good with the baby?”

Her smile widened.  “All good.”

“Good,” Bobby said, tiredly closing his eyes again.

Bobby promptly fell asleep, and but this small exchange did a lot to assuage their fears.  They stayed by his side, Ally chatting quietly while Jackson investigated the medical equipment attached to his brother, until quietly knocking on the door Dr Ramirez let himself in. 

“Mr Maine,” he said, nodding at Jackson as he picked up the chart at the end of Bobby’s bed, before flicking his eyes over to Ally.  “Mrs Maine.”

“How is he?” Jackson asked, as she smiled back to the doctor.

Dr Ramirez scanned Bobby’s chart before he replied.  “Bobby’s doing okay so far,” he said, speaking in hushed tones.  “We removed the endotracheal tube this morning and he’s breathing by himself.  The cannula in his nose is just to give him a little extra oxygen.  So far there are no signs of infection.”  The doctor paused, and Ally guessed a ‘but’ was coming.  “However, the EKG, which tracks the electrical activity in Bobby’s heart, shows some signs of arrhythmia.”

“Arrhythmia?” Jackson asked, frowning.

“Right now, Bobby’s heart isn’t beating as regularly as we’d like, Mr Maine.  It’s a little irregular.  You play guitar, right?” Dr Ramirez asked out of the blue, adding without waiting for a reply, “So do I.  Well, I dabble, but anyways.  Arrhythmias are like recorded music containing extreme timing deviations.  Are you familiar with George Harrison’s _Here Comes The Sun_?”  The doctor’s eyes widened with glee.  “Or Pink Floyd’s _Money_?”

Frowning, Ally glanced at Jackson but immersed in the doctor’s words Jackson simply nodded his head.  “You’re talking about odd time signatures.”

“That’s right.  The song begins in an unusual 7/8 time, then during the guitar solo the song changes to 4/4, then returns to 7/8 and ends in 4/4 again.   Bobby’s heart’s doing kind of the same when we'd like it to be a constant 4/4.”

“I get it,” Jackson said, nodding.

“It’s a common post-op complication and we’re keeping a close eye on it.”

Turning his attention back to Bobby, Jackson gave a nod.

“He woke up before,” Ally said, trying to stay positive.  “He spoke to us.”

Dr Ramirez smiled.  “That’s good.  You’ll find that he’s going to be…sleeping a lot today but by tomorrow he should manage to stay awake for much longer periods of time.”

“So,” Jackson said after a beat, “let me get this straight.  A blocked artery is what caused his heart attack, right?”

“That’s right.”

“And you fixed it.”

“We did.”

Jackson gave a nod.  “So, could it happen again?  I mean, for his artery to get blocked.”

“Well, the one we created should last him a fair few years, but unless he makes drastic changes to his lifestyle, then yes, another artery could get blocked.”

“So he could have another heart attack.”

“That’s right, but the rehabilitation programme will teach him what to do to minimise the risks.  He’ll have to take all his medication as prescribed, but also take part in daily physical activity. Minimise stress. Eat healthy foods.  Drink alcohol but only moderately.  _Very_ moderately.  If he’s a smoker, he’ll need to quit―”

“He doesn’t smoke.”

Dr Ramirez nodded.  “We’ll go through everything with him in due course.”  He paused. “What happened to Bobby is a life changing event.  He will need to make adjustments to his lifestyle.”

Jackson gave a nod.

“Oh, and before I forget, we contacted his physician,” Dr Ramirez went on, refocusing both sharply, “and he confirmed that although your brother wasn’t on any medication there were signs that all wasn’t well.”

Glancing at Ally, Jackson nodded his head.

“I’m going to leave you in peace now,” the doctor said, moving to the door.  “But I’m around if you have more questions.”

“Thank you,” Ally and Jackson said in unison and watched the doctor leave the room.

Ally closed the distance to Jackson, rubbing her hand to his back when he turned back to his brother. 

“It’s going to be okay,” he told Bobby, “You hear?  From now on, I’m going to do the looking after.  I’m going to be the brother I should have been for you all those years.”

Bobby's eyes opened.  “’Bout fucking time.” 

 


	30. Chapter 30

“You sure you’ll be okay on your own?” Ally asked, looking up from the half-eaten chicken salad on her plate.

Chewing, Jack gave her a nod.  “Sure.  I’m…feeling a lot better,” he replied, eagerly leaning in toward her when his mouth was empty. “Much stronger.  Much more positive.  Taking to Bobby, even if it wasn’t for long, has put my mind and the negative thoughts at rest.  For now anyway.”

Ally smiled.

“So,” Jackson raised his fork, punctuating his words with it as he spoke, “no fucking pulling out of your engagement.”

A wry smile on her lips, she lifted a grudging shoulder.  “I won’t.  I’ll get Rez to drop me back here afterwards, okay?  So, don’t go home without me.”

His smile widened.  “I won’t.”  His expression sobering, he turned his attention back to the food in his plate, pushing it around for a few seconds before he tossed down his fork and looked up.  “I can’t believe it’s taken me Bobby almost dying to finally realise how much he means to me.  How much I care for him,” he added in a whisper.

“Bobby knows you love him, Jack, and he loves you,” she said after a beat, clearly taken aback by the candour and unexpectedness of his words.

Jackson gave a pondering nod, then a mirthless scoff.  “Love isn’t an emotion I― _we_ , I guess,” he amended with a shrug, “were shown or taught to show as kids.  Not by our father anyway.  I mean, it showed weakness, right?”  Again he scoffed.  “I don’t recall my father ever saying he loved me – or Bobby – ever.  Not one single time.  Slaps on the head we got plenty of, but love, affection, praise?”  This time, he laughed.  “Boys were supposed to be tough, right?  Strong and stoic.  Not sissies.” 

“Sissies?” she queried when he lapsed into silence, hoping her light tone hid the sadness his words evoked.

“Yeah, sissies,” he replied, his smile returning.

Talking about his father made her think of her mother and her smile fading she averted her gaze back to her plate.

“You’re not eating that?” he asked, pointing at a strip of chicken on her plate.

She gave a shake of the head, and he reached over to stab it with his fork.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, chewing.

She glanced up.  “Huh?”

“You’ve got that…worried fold on your forehead.”

Her expression relaxing, she smoothed her fingers over her brow.  “I was thinking of my mother,” she admitted in a sigh.

He gave a solemn nod.  “Tonight, we’ll contact Daniels,” he said, adding when she stared at him blankly, “the PI?  We’ll give him the info your father gave you.”

Her gaze drifted back to her plate.

“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?  I mean, it’s up to you, Ally.  We don’t have to do anything unless you want to.”

“But if it was you, if you were looking for your father, you’d do it, right?”

“My father was a piece of shit,” he said before he caught himself.  They sat at a table in the back corner of the large, open hospital cafeteria and he checked to make sure they weren’t being overheard before he continued.  “But yeah, sure, I’d want to get in touch.  I’d want to tell him all the things I was too sissy to tell him when I was growing up.  I’d want to tell him, ‘See?  I made it.  I’m famous. I’m a fucking rock star.  And a pretty damn good one at that.’  But I’d also want him to meet you, I’d want him to meet the baby, and see that he didn’t fuck me up all that much that I couldn’t―”  Emotional now, he clamped his jaw, and when she reached out her hand to him he gripped it fiercely, “―that I couldn’t show love and let myself be loved.  Think myself worthy of that love.  That _that_ was my cure all along.”  He chuckled through his tears.  “Even if I almost fucked it up in the process.  I’d tell him that even if I’m a sissy I’m a bigger man than he was.”

Tears in her eyes, Ally gave him a smile he returned shakily.

“So yes,” he went on after clearing his throat, “I guess if I had the chance I’d fucking meet with him.”

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” she said, adding when he looked at her with puzzlement, “First thing I’d have done is punch him in the fucking face.”

He laughed.  “Yeah, well, priorities change, I guess.”

Withdrawing her hand from his, she discreetly wiped at her eyes and nodded her head.  “I mean, we don’t even know if she’s still alive,” she went on in a whisper.

“And there’s only one way to find out, right?” he insisted quietly.

Sighing, she gave a nod that grew from hesitant to firm and then definite.  “Okay, let’s do it.”

“That’s my girl.”  He reached for her hand again and she took it.  “And you know I’ll be there every step of the way, right?  Like you’re here with me, every step of the way.”

Her smile grew.  “I know.” 

He gave a satisfied nod and was about to speak again when a male voice exclaimed, “I can’t believe it!  Jackson Maine!  I thought it was you!”

Startling, Jackson and Ally looked up and over to a grinning, middle-aged man standing by their table, a pen and paper napkin in hand.

“Can I get an autograph please?  I’m your biggest fan.”

“We’re in the hospital for crying out loud,” Ally exclaimed bad-temperedly, startling both men.  “Have some common decency.  Now’s not the―”

“Sure,” she heard Jackson say as he squeezed her hand, cutting her rant short.  Giving her a pointed look, he grabbed the proffered pen and quickly scrawled his name onto the napkin.

“Can I get a selfie too?” the man asked, looking hopeful as he pulled his cell phone out of his pant pocket.

Outraged, Ally opened her mouth, but Jackson spoke first.  “Not today, huh?” he said, easily enough, and stroked at the three-day stubble on his face. “Come back tomorrow and I’ll make sure I’m half decent.”

“Sure, thanks!” the man said after a beat, looking slightly perplexed, as though he wasn’t entirely sure whether Jackson was joking or not.

“You meant that, didn’t you?” Ally said, her head shaking with disbelief, when the man was out of earshot.

“Sure I meant it,” he replied easily.  “I need to shave anyway.”

“But why?  And I don’t mean the beard.  I mean, come on, we’re in the hospital.  We’re fucking entitled to a little privacy.”

“Bobby once told me.”  His gaze became distant, as if getting lost in memory.  “Well, he said something like…”  Pausing, he cleared his throat and lowered his voice, perfectly emulating his brother’s, “If you’re kind to your fans they’ll be kind to you.”  He dropped the voice.  “And over the years I learnt that it’s fucking true.”

Ally’s smile was wistful.  “He’s certainly a lot wiser than I’ll ever be.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.  I think you’re plenty wise.”

“But tell me something,” she went on, pointing a finger in his direction, “How come is it they always want your autograph and not mine?”

Jackson burst out laughing, a loud guffaw that resonated through the café, making a few heads turn, before he turned his attention back to his food.  Ally’s cell buzzed in her purse and her smile vanishing she reached for it with a start.  “It’s from Lukas,” she said, frowning as she tapped on the icon to open the text message.  She quickly read it, and with a sigh looked up. 

“Let me guess,” Jackson said, his mouth full.  “He wants me to fucking return his calls.”

She smiled.  “He didn’t put it so colourfully, but yeah.”

He finished his mouthful, then sighed. 

“Jack?”

“He’s itching get back in the studio – they all are.”

Her frown deepened.  “I thought you were too.  I thought it was all set up.  That you were starting next week.”

He paused.  “It is―it was, but with the visits to Dr Cummings and AA meetings and now Bobby in the hospital―”

“Huh, huh,” she cut in decisively, her head shaking, cutting him short, “if I’m not allowed to put my career on hold, neither are you.  Sure, Bobby’s going to need our help, but I know for a fact that he wouldn’t want you to change your plans.  Quite the opposite in fact, knowing you’re back writing, recording and performing again will be the best therapy for him.”

“And you know that for a fact, huh?”

Her smile was wide and dancing.  “I do.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said in a sigh.  “Let the next few days pass and see how Bobby’s doing.”

She knew a brushoff when she heard one.  “So what do I tell Lukas?”

“That you passed on the message.”

She tried to damp down her growing frustration but to no avail.  “They want to help you, Jack; don’t keep pushing them away.  Just give them as much time as you can spare.  Meet with them, share your ideas, share mine and let them share _their_ ideas with you.  Music’s a healer, right?” She paused and watched him.  He was looking down at his plate and she hoped she was getting through to him.  “Just call him, if only to tell him about Bobby, before it’s all over the internet.” 

He looked up suddenly. 

“And what about Willie, huh?”

“Shit.”  He ran his hand down his face and let out a long breath.  “I’d forgotten about Willie.”

“He needs to know, Jack.” 

“I know.  I―I’ll…” Looking up, he shrugged his shoulder uncertainly, “…call him later.”

“Why not do it now, huh?  While I’m here?”

“Because I don’t have his number?”

His flippant tone riled her. “Jack―”

He sighed. “I’ll ask Bobby for it.”

She fixed him with a steady stare. 

“I’ll fucking do it, okay?” he said, his voice rising impatiently.  Closing his eyes, he let out a long, steady breath that let her know that she’d pushed him enough. Anymore, and it would tip him over the edge.

“Okay,” she said softly, conciliatory, and for something to do finished her iced tea.

Standing up suddenly, he reached over to the next table for a clean paper napkin that had been left there.

“You got a pen or something I can write with in your purse?” he asked out of the blue.

Frowning, Ally picked up her purse from the floor and took out a tube of lipstick.  Smiling when he pulled a face at her, she swapped the lipstick for a ballpoint pen she handed over to him.  He clicked it, and immediately started writing down onto the napkin what she assumed were lyrics.

“You want to borrow a page from my songbook?” she asked.  “I got it here.”

“No, that's fine,” he said distractedly.

“We need to get you your own songbook,” she said, and then when he just kept on writing without replying, “I’m going to―” Standing, she shouldered her purse then hooked a thumb over toward the rest of the cafeteria, unnoticed by him, “the restroom.”

He gave an absent nod.  Smiling, she watched as totally engrossed he crossed out a word and started over before finally heading to the bathroom. She wondered which song he was working on, whether brand-new lyrics had popped into his head, or what.  Either way, he’d got his mojo back, a sure sign that he was healing.  When she got back a few minutes later, he was chatting to the elderly server who was clearing their table.  The pen and paper napkin were nowhere to be seen.

“Ready?” he said, looking up when she approached.

She gave a nod, and the server walked away.  Jackson stood, and with his hand on the small of her back they made their way to the elevators.  “What’s that you were writing on the napkin earlier?”

He pressed the button to call the elevator.  “A list of stuff we need to get from the grocery store on the way home.”

“Is that right?”

“Huh, huh,” he replied lightly, as they stepped into the empty cab when the doors opened.  “I was thinking we could grill ribs tonight.”

“Ribs,” she repeated flatly.

He reached over to press the button for the next floor up.  “Yeah, with corn on the cob and a side salad," he went on, his expression deadpan.  "Why?  What do you think I was doing?”

She pulled a face at him.  “I hope you remembered to put ice cream on your list.”

“Nice one.”  A smile breaking, he reached inside his jacket and took out the pen and napkin.  “Let me add that on.”

“Call Lukas,” was all she said.  “You’re as ready as they are.”

Bobby was awake and sitting up in bed when they went in, a nurse tending to him. 

“Everything okay?” Jackson asked worriedly.

“Sure,” the nurse replied. 

“Was it his heart again?  The odd time signature thing?”

Bobby gave a low, raspy laugh.  “He’s taking about the dodgy ticker,” he told the puzzled nurse.

“Oh, yes,” she replied pleasantly.  “But we’ve got it under control.”

“What are the risks?” Ally asked, frowning.  “If it doesn't stop.”

“We’re worried about blood clots forming and potentially blocking another vessel.”

“That’s why I’m wearing goddamn pantyhose,” Bobby said, moving his legs under the bed sheet.  “Itchy as hell.”

Ally and Jackson badly suppressed smiles.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” the nurse said, an amused smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, before explaining to Ally and Jackson, “he’s talking about the compression stockings, and they’re only knee-high.  They’re to increase blood flow in his legs.”  She checked a couple more readings, then promptly left.

“Odd time signature, huh?” Bobby said weakly, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

Jackson lifted a sheepish shoulder. 

“That’s how the doc explained it to us,” Ally said, stepping forward.

“Go figure.”  Bobby’s scoff turned into a light cough.  “So,” he went on afterwards, “What did you do with my truck?”

Jackson pulled a chair up closer to the bed and while the brothers chatted quietly Ally took out her cell phone from her purse.  She texted Lukas back, then checked the time and her email.  It was almost 1pm and she knew Rez wouldn’t be late.  Both men were looking at her when after putting her cell away she looked up.

“Is it time?” Jackson asked.

She gave a quiet nod.

“Time for what?” Bobby asked, sounding puzzled.

“Rez’s coming―”

“Not to visit me, I hope,” Bobby cut in.

“No,” Ally replied, laughing.  “We’re meeting with the label.  He thinks now’s a good time to renegotiate the terms for the second album.  I’m sorry, I tried to postpone but―”

“Hey, don’t apologise,” Bobby said.  “As much as it pains me to admit it, Rez is right, sweetie.  In this industry, you got to strike while the iron’s hot.  This new album of yours will be bigger than the last one, you mark my words.”

Her expression softened.  “Thanks, Bobby.”

“As long as pretty boy here’s staying?” he went on, turning back to Jackson.  

Jackson shook his head in disbelief.  “I’m staying.”

“Good, ‘cause I need you to make a few calls for me. Let people know I’m going to be out of action for a while.  You got your cell with you?”

“Yeah,” Jackson said in a sigh that made Ally smile.

Bobby’s eyes closed again as though those few minutes chatting had taken their toll.  Ally paused, then looked over toward Jackson who standing indicated the door.

“I’ll see you later,” she said, covering the distance so she could buss Bobby’s prickly cheek.

“Bye sweetie,” he replied, keeping his eyes closed.

“I’ll be right back.”  Jackson opened the door and Ally followed him out.   

“I’ll get Rez to drop me back here as soon as the meeting’s over, okay?” she said.

“Sure. There’s no rush.”

She nodded, then glanced at Bobby through the window.  “You going to be okay?”

Jackson smiled.  “I’m going to be fine.”

“It’s just…with what happened yesterday…” She let her words trail hesitantly.

“There won’t be a repeat of yesterday, okay?  Yesterday, I freaked out. I lost it. Today I’m in a better place.  I’m staying put.”

She took a step closer to him.  “You promise to call me if, you know, you need anything?”

Smiling, he leaned down to kiss her lips.  “I promise.”

“Okay.”  She made to leave before rising on her tiptoes and kissing him again.

“Okay,” he said, a smile twitching at his lips.

She pulled a face.  “Call and I'll come straight back, okay?”

His smile widened.  “Come on,” he said, “Go!”

“I love you.” 

“And I love you too.  Now go.  Go!”

One last glance at Bobby through the window, and reluctantly she was on her way.  Rez was waiting for her where he’d instructed and she managed to reach his spanking new white BMW coupe without being noticed by the few paparazzi that were still hovering near the hospital entrance.  He sat at the wheel, talking hands-free on his cell, and he wound up his call when she let herself in beside him. 

“Jackson made a statement yet?” he asked without preamble.

“A statement?”

“To the press.”

Glancing over her shoulder at the paparazzi as she put on her seat belt, Ally shook her head.  “I don’t know how the hell they found out.”

“It wasn’t me,” Rez said.

Her gaze narrowed. “I wasn’t saying it was.”

“Good, because it wasn’t,” he said, holding her gaze steadily.  With a sigh, he started the engine, then slid his sunglasses down from the top of his head and backed out of the space.  “So, how’s Bobby doing?”

“He’s doing okay, considering.  Still in the ICU but he was awake and chatting when I left.”

Rez flicked his eyes off the road over to her.  “So he’s going to be okay, right?”

Ally smiled.  “He’s going to have to make lifestyle changes but he should be, yeah.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Rez said, nodding as he reached the exit.  “He’s a good man.”

Her expression softened.  “Yeah, he is.” 

Rez took a right out of the hospital car lot onto the expressway.  “And Jack? How is he bearing up?”

Wondering whether the question was loaded, she glanced at him.  “He’s okay.  A little shaken, you know, but okay.”

Rez nodded his head.  “You brought your songbook with you?”

She patted her purse on her lap.  “I did.”

“With all the new material?”

“Yes.  I brought everything I got as per your instructions.”

“A demo would have been better, but this’ll have to do for now.  I mean, what you said on Ellen about what this new album’s about, it’s true, right?”

She frowned.  “I wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t.”

Again Rez nodded his head.  “Listen, Ally,” he went on, turning toward her when he pulled up at a red light.  “I thought of a game plan.  I―”

“Yeah, about that."  She winced.  "You might want to rethink it.”

Suspicion creased his brow.  “Why?”

She took in a deep breath she released slowly.  “I’m pregnant,” she finally said.

“What?”

“I’m pregnant,” she repeated quietly, making herself hold his stare, “You know, me and Jack, we’re having a baby.”

“I know what pregnant means,” he retorted, tersely.

“Well, I thought you should know.”

“You thought I should know,” he repeated with disbelief, and she readied herself for his outburst.

“Well, you’ve been wondering, right?”

“Yes―no.  Fuck, Ally!” 

“I figure I should tell the label too,” she went on, “You know, in the name of transparency.”

“In the name of fucking trans―” Pausing, he sucked in a deep calming breath, then gently banged his hands on the steering wheel.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The car behind beeped its horn, and refocusing with a start Rez pulled away.

“Either you deal with it, Rez, or you don’t,” she said.  “But it won’t change the fact that I’m pregnant.”

“I take it you’re keeping the baby?”

The question hit a raw nerve.  “Of course, I’m fucking keeping the baby.  Fuck, Rez, how can you even ask that?”

“We’re on our way to see the big cheeses so we can sign a new deal," he replied, his voice rising.  "A new deal for the next what?  Two, three albums?  Ally, we’re talking millions of dollars’ worth.”

“I don’t care about the money, Rez.  The money doesn’t matter to me.”  She paused.  “To be honest with you, I don’t see how me being pregnant changes anything.”

“Of course, it changes everything!  It changes fucking everything.”

“No, it doesn’t.  Pregnant or not, deal or no deal, I’d still be writing the same music.  I’d still be writing the same songs.  I’d still be putting my music out there.  And I’d still be making you fucking millions.  Women have babies, Rez, get over it.  It doesn’t stop them doing everything women fucking do.”

He flicked his eyes off the road over to her.  “And that’s why I’m going to tell the label, is it?”

“Why not?  And if you haven’t got the balls, then _I’ll_ tell them.  And if they don’t like it then fuck them.”

Stopping at another red light, Rez dropped his forehead to the wheel.  “Please, don’t tell them that,” he said.  Looking back up, he started laughing.  “Don’t tell them to go fuck themselves.”

His reaction took her by surprise.  “Well, then they’d better not push me too hard.” 

“I really wish you’d told me before.  I really wish you’d given me more time.”  Rez took in a long exasperated breath he let out slowly, then nodded his head.  The light changed to green and he pulled away.  “It’s not like there’s much I can do about it, is there?”

“Nope.  This baby’s coming, Rez.  Whether you want it to, or not.”

He smiled.  “You’re enjoying tormenting me, aren’t you?”

She had a moment's pause. “You’re an easy target.”

“When is the baby due?”

Wondering at his train of thought, she frowned.  “Next spring.”

He gave a slow nod.  “You think you’ll have the album written by then?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

He considered the implications as he drove.  “You know, Ally,” he went on, turning toward her again, “you’re a hard nut to crack.”

A wide smile formed.  “You think you’ve cracked me?”

“Evidently not,” he replied in a sigh, his eyes flicking back to the road before he glanced over again.  “So, I guess congrats are in order.”

Ally stared at his profile face for a moment, trying to decide whether she should put her grievances against him aside.  For all intents and purposes Jackson had, and maybe it was time she did too.

“I guess so,” she replied, her smile broadening pleasurably.

 


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of lyrics in this chapter. The first song, in italics as always, is Creed’s 'With Arms Wide Open', which I’ve used before. The second lot is Van Morrison’s 'I’ll Be Your Lover Too'. In my head Jackson sings the song like Corey Taylor does it on acoustic guitar. Check out the video on YouTube, or maybe have the song cued up and listen to it when Jack sings it to Ally in this chapter. I don’t know. Anyway, I’ve fallen in love with Corey’s voice – his acoustic voice – just him and his guitar. If you like it, then listen to Snuff, the acoustic version on his own, not when he does it with Slipknot.

Ally put her cell away in her purse.  “He’s just not picking up,” she told Phil tersely.

After pulling up the SUV next to an orange Dodge pickup truck, Phil turned the engine off.  “If they’re playing, then he probably won’t hear it.”

“I told him to keep it on vibrate and in his back pocket.”

Glancing in the rear-view mirror, he smiled.  “It’s okay.  We got plenty of time.  I’ll wait here.”

She’d been tense and cranky ever since she’d woken up that morning.  Well, that wasn’t true.  Her bad mood had been building for a few days now.  It would be easy to put it down to her heavy schedule and the pregnancy and the niggling backache and swollen ankles, but that would be a lie.  She could cope with that, was coping fine with that.  It was her fear and anxiety over what to expect from this visit to Ohio that weighed heavily on her mind.  But she’d made up her mind to take the trip, and she would see it through.

“Sure, thanks, Phil,” she said in a sigh.  “I won’t be five minutes.”

Ally got out of the car and trotted over to the recording studio’s entrance.  The door when she pulled it was locked and she put in the code before letting herself in when the door clicked open.  Pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head, she followed the sound of music down the narrow corridor past the darkened recording studio to the main practice room.  Stopping at the door, she watched through the plate glass Jack and the band play something she hadn’t heard before.  Spotting her first, Anthony stopped drumming, followed by Corey on the bass, and then Lukas and Logan gradually came to a stop too, and she opened the door.

Turning around, Jackson broke into a wide smile when he saw her and after pulling one of his in-ears out and letting it dangle over his shoulder reached for a bottle of water on a stool nearby and took a long swig.  His hair was plastered to his forehead, his face glistened with sweat, and yet he looked fresh and rejuvenated.  He lifted his guitar over his head, put it on the stand, then reached for a towel he used to dry his face and neck as he bounded over to her.  If she didn’t know better she would say he was high, and maybe he was but not on drugs or alcohol.

“Is it time already?” he asked, sounding surprised, as he leaned down to kiss her.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t know.  I’ve been calling you, like, for ages.”

“I swear I kept it on.”  Frowning, he felt his hand to his back pocket and pulled out his cell phone.  “See?”  And then wincing as he checked the screen and saw all the missed calls, “Oh, that was the extra vibration on my butt.  I thought it was Corey’s awesome bass.”

She pulled a face at him.  “Come on, Jack, you promised you’d be ready.  We got to hurry, or we’ll miss the flight.”

“Relax,” he said, slipping his cell back in his back pocket.  “We still got plenty of time.  There’s just one more song we got to play and then we’re done.”  He turned toward the rest of the band and gave them each a meaningful look.

“We could use your opinion, to be honest,” Lukas said, refocusing her.

She sighed.  “Sure. Yeah, okay.  Just one, okay?”

Smiling, Jackson leaned down to kiss her again.  “Promise.”  He took another quick swig of water, put his in-ear back in, picked up his guitar and this time moved to the microphone in front of a music stand.  Anthony began with a count off and Jackson launched into an opening riff, a melodic guitar intro that led to the first verse.  A smile of recognition broke across her face almost immediately, because this song he’d penned about their unborn child had grown to mean as much to her, as it did to him. 

 _“Well I just heard the news today,”_ Jack sang, leaning into the microphone as he played, his eyes steadfast on her.  
_“It seems my life is going to change_  
_I close my eyes, begin to pray_  
_Then tears of joy stream down my face.”_

At this point, the drum beat, quiet up to now, intensified and the rest of the band joined in.

 _“With arms wide open_  
_Under the sunlight_  
_Welcome to this place_  
_I'll show you everything_  
_With arms wide open_  
_With arms wide open_

 _Well I don't know if I'm ready_  
_To be the man I have to be_  
_I'll take a breath, I'll take her by my side_  
_We stand in awe, we've created life."_

Then he launched into the chorus again, adding,  
_“I'll show you love_  
_I'll show you everything.”_

By the end of the song, Ally had the tears of joy Jackson sang about in the song streaming down her face.  Laughing, she reached for his damp towel and dabbed her eyes with it.  She’d heard him do the song many times before, but never with the band and certainly not arranged that way.  Somehow they’d managed to keep the original melody and chord structure she’d composed for the song, but had also incorporated Jackson’s sound and all the band’s nuances.

Jackson caught her eye and she beamed at him proudly.  “Guys,” he said into the microphone when the last note was played, “I think it’s a thumbs-up from Ally.”

“It’s more than a thumbs-up,” she told them, still emotional.  “I love it.  I think it’s perfect.  You guys playing it at the weekend?”

“Jack doesn’t want to,” Lukas said, looking over his shoulder as he packed his guitar away in the case.  “But it’s okay.  We got plenty of material.”

Ally refocused a surprised expression on her husband.  “I don’t want to…jinx anything, you know?” he said, soft eyes glancing at her expanding stomach as he lifted the guitar up over his head to put it away.  “I think we’ll keep this one for after the baby’s born.”

Her smile returned.  “Fair enough.  So?  We’re good to go now?”

He nodded.  “I just need to…grab a couple of things.  I won’t be a minute.”

She waited while he packed up his acoustic guitar, then filled a duffel bag with stuff she assumed he’d need for the gig he and the band were playing at the Austin City Limits festival at the weekend.  Finally, carrying his load, he joined her at the door.

“See you both in Austin,” Lukas called.

“Make sure you don’t forget to load up the rest of my gear, okay?” Jackson said, grabbing his jacket from the back of a chair and checking the pockets.

“We won’t, don’t worry,” Logan said.

Pausing, he turned back toward his band mates.  “Okay.  See you Friday then.”

“Come on, Jack,” she said, when still he hesitated after every one has said their goodbyes, “Or we’ll really miss the plane.”

Looking over to her, he smiled and nodded his head, and after he had one last look at his band mates they made their way out to the small lot. 

“You worried about the gig?” she asked him.

“The gig?”

“At the ACL, this weekend.”

“No―yes.  Well, a little.  I mean, I’m not worried about it, just a little nervous, you know? It’s been…well, it’s been a long time.”  He sighed.  “Big crowds like that, and not necessarily your fan base, can be pretty unforgiving.”

“They’re going to love watching you perform again.  And they’re going to love your new songs.”

His expression softened.  “I hope so.”

When they reached the SUV, Jackson banged his hand on the back window and while Ally got into the back seat Phil popped the trunk open. 

“All set?” Phil asked, starting the engine, when Jackson took his place next to Ally.

“Yep,” he replied, sharing a smile with Ally. He rubbed his hands with glee. “Come on, let’s go!”

Phil manoeuvred out of the car lot and joined the traffic headed out of Hollywood.  “Ally said you're not going straight to Austin, that you were going away for a few days?”

“We are,” Jackson said, smiling pleasurably.  “We haven’t had any time away, like just the two of us, in what?”

Ally shrugged as she thought it over.  “Without being on tour?”

He nodded.

“Since I followed you to Nashville and we got married. We stayed there a week, was it?  You took me to visit the Johnny Cash museum for our honeymoon.”

“Jesus, Jack, really?” Phil exclaimed, his head shaking sadly at the thought, and they laughed.

"Hey," Jackson defended.  "That's not all we did."

Ally winked at him, and he shook his head in amusement.

Phil took the exit off the expressway headed north toward Burbank instead of carrying on toward central LA and then south to LAX airport.

“Jack?” she said, frowning.  “Where are we going?”

“We’re flying out from Bob Hope airport, didn’t I tell you?”

“No,” she said, suspicious now.

“Well, we are,” he said, grinning.  

He turned to look out of the window, and her brow still pinched distrustfully she did the same.  Bob Hope airport, renamed in 2003 for the legendary comedian, was both practical and convenient.  She’d flown from there a few times now, her first time forever etched on her heart.  Her expression softened with a smile at the recollection.  Phil had driven her and Ramon there, and they’d flown out on a private jet to Jackson’s concert in San Diego.  

“And Charlie?” he asked suddenly, drawing her out of her musings.

“He’s with Bobby, as planned.”

“Good.  I’m hoping the daily walks will help with his rehabilitation.”

Ally chuckled.  “I think the yard’s big enough that Charlie doesn’t have to be walked.” 

Jackson made a non-committal sound. 

“And quit worrying.  Bobby’s doing well.”

“What did he think of the nurse?”

“What? Turning up like that out of the blue?  I don’t think he was impressed.  Said he didn’t need – or want – a chaperone.”

He shrugged.  “I’ll make it up to him.  I just…”

She stroked her hand to his thigh.  “Needed her there for your peace of mind, I get it.”

Phil slowed the car right down and frowning Ally checked their surroundings.  They drove past the main airport terminal, and Phil took the turn toward the FBO, entering a part of the airport where a private jet was idling there at the ready.

“I thought you said we were flying commercial,” she said, turning to Jackson.

“Well, I lied.”

“You lied.”

“Two reasons,” he went on enthusiastically, lifting two fingers in a V.  “First I thought, you know,” he glanced at her bump meaningfully, “that we’d have more space and be more comfortable that way.  You know, with regards moving about and all.”

Her expression softening tenderly, she reached over and cupping his face with her hands kissed his lips.  “Thank you,” she said, pulling back.  “That was very thoughtful of you.”  She frowned.  “You said two reasons.”

Pausing, he lifted a sheepish shoulder.  “I didn’t want to run the risk of someone recognising me – recognising _us_ ,” he amended pointedly, “And asking for an autograph or worse a picture or a singalong or something.  You know what they do with passengers that turn violent.”

Laughing, she gave her head a shake.  “A singalong could have been nice.”

Phil opened the back door and Jackson stepped out, Ally clutching her purse and sliding on the backseat after him.

“Well,” Jackson said, taking her hand to help her out of the car, “Nothing stops us from having our own private singalong on the plane.”

She smiled her thanks for the help.  “I’d like that.”

Jackson reached over to grab the guitar case Phil held out to him.  When Ally made to take the bag she’d packed for the flight, Jackson gave her a dark look before his eyes drifted down to her swollen belly pointedly and she relinquished her hold on the bag over to him.  A flight attendant came over, telling them that everything was ready and they could come on-board.  Jackson looked over at Ally and after thanking Phil she preceded her husband up the steps.

Immediately, Ally dumped her purse on one of the leather seats and kicked off her shoes while Jackson stowed the guitar in a corner out of the way.  Then she undid the top button of her pants and pulled the T-shirt out of the waistband so it covered her front.

“Better?” he asked, smiling knowingly.

“Much,” she replied.  “You know, I’m going to have to go clothes shopping again.”

His smile grew, twitching teasingly at the corners.  “I’m sure Ramon will love to go with you.”

She scanned her eyes over the plane's interior. “What’s this?” she asked, frowning as she took out a bottle of champagne left to cool in a bucket of ice.

“I guess it’s complimentary,” Jackson replied, shrugging.

“Compli―didn’t they get the fucking memo?”

“Hey, it’s cool, okay?” Taking her hand, he turned her body around toward him and looked at her straight in the eye.  “I’m cool.  It’s not like I’m never going to be around booze again, right?  Best start getting used to having the stuff around, you know?  Especially when I’m good and relaxed.”

“Still, Jack.”

With a sigh, he grabbed the bottle out of her hand and started opening overhead lockers until he found an empty one.  He tossed the bottle inside, then slammed the locker shut. 

The flight attendant rushed in.  “Everything okay, Sir?”

“Sure,” he said, winking at Ally.  “Everything’s A-OK.”

The attendant smiled.  “We’re almost ready for take-off.  If you could take your seats, please?”

Ally and Jack did as bid.  After a safety briefing and an update on travel time and weather conditions, the attendant handed out menus, coming back a couple of minutes later to take their drink and meal order.

“You think I’m doing the right thing going to meet her?”  Ally asked, automatically putting her seat belt on afterwards.

“You know I do.”

“Maybe I should have called first, or written to her.”

Sitting forward, Jack reached for her hand.  “And said what?”

“I don’t know,” she replied in a sigh.  “Rejection might have been easier on paper, or even on the phone, than face-to-face.”

He gave her hand a squeeze.  “You don’t know that’s what’s going to happen.”

“Why hasn’t she ever made contact, huh?”

“I don’t know.”

The plane began to move as they began taxiing and after Jackson sat back in his seat and did his seat belt they lapsed into silence.  At the top of the runway, the engines were run at full power before the brakes were released.  Feeling the thrust of the engines as the plane accelerated away, Ally leaned back into her seat, closed her eyes and instinctively stroked her hands to her belly comfortingly. Dr Stanislas had told her that it was still early enough in the pregnancy for flying to be perfectly safe, and she held on to that thought.  

“I feel bad doing this behind Dad’s back,” she said, reopening her eyes when they were in the air.

Jackson gave her a small smile.  “He’ll understand.”

“It’s just like, I mean, I still don’t know if I’m actually going to make contact and―”

“Hey, hey.  You don’t have to justify yourself or your actions to me, okay?  I get it.  Your dad knows we’ve located her.  I’m sure he realises it’s only a matter of time before you actually make contact.  Whether it’s tomorrow or in six months’ time after the baby’s born, it doesn’t matter.” 

Pausing, he released his seat belt, shifted on the leather seat, then patted his lap, indicating she should come and sit down on it.  Smiling, she unbuckled herself and did as bid, sitting sideways across his lap with one arm draped around his neck.

“A little to the left,” he said, wincing, and chuckling she shifted her butt. “Oh, that’s better.  We don’t want them squished too much, do we?  Not if we want a second one.”

“Another baby?” she exclaimed.

“Sure, why not?”

She opened her mouth, only to shake her head in disbelief.  “Let’s see how we do with this one first, okay?”

“We’re going to smash it.”

Laughing, she stroked her hand to his face before she kissed his lips.  “Let’s hope so.”

His expression sobering, he pushed a little hair out of her eyes.  “I think what you’re doing is very brave.  It takes guts, you know?”

“I couldn’t do it without you.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”  Pausing, he watched her face softly for a while before lowering his eyes to her stomach.  “Tell me something, girl,” he began to sing in a quiet whisper only she could hear, his gaze steadfast on her belly.  “Are you happy in this modern world?”

“You talking to me, or the baby?” she asked, giggling.

Smiling tenderly, he looked back up.  “You.”

She watched him, a loving smile on her lips, for a long moment before she said, “You know, I don’t think I can ever sing this song again and mean the words.  I _am_ happy in this modern world, and I don’t need more.”  She took his hand and pressed it to her stomach.  “I’ve got everything I want here with me.”

A grin of pleasure broke across his face.  “So, I guess what you’re saying is that we need a new duet to sing to our fans.  One where we’d mean the words.”

Her smile widened.  “Yeah.  I guess that’s what I’m saying.”

He gave a slow, considering nod.  “I was going to wait till later, but―” 

The flight attendant walked up to them, refocusing them.  Smiling, she reached past them and put their drinks on a side shelf.  They thanked her, and she withdrew. 

“What’s that you were saying?” Ally asked, turning back to her husband.

Looking somewhat hesitant, he motioned for her to get up off his lap before pushing to his feet when she slid into the opposite seat and retrieving his acoustic guitar from the case. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, perplexed as she took a sip of her soda.

“Well, there’s something I’ve been working on for quite some time now.”

She grinned in anticipation.  “A song?”

He nodded.  “A song – for you.  Not a duet though.  And I haven’t played it to anyone yet.  I mean, I wanted…you know…for you to be the first one to hear it.”

“Oh, Jack.”

“I don’t even know if I’ll ever…recorded it or anything, it’s a…kind of a little corny.”

Her expression softened tenderly. “I like corny.” 

“I wanted to keep it, you know?”  Tears filled his eyes unexpectedly, and he averted them self-consciously.  “As a gift for when the baby’s born, but I want you to hear it now.”  He smiled.  “I think now’s a good time.  It’s…I’m ready.” 

She gave an enthusiastic nod, indicating she too was ready to hear it, and he sat down on the edge of the leather seat opposite her, propping the guitar up on his leg.  He wriggled his fingers, loosening them, then played a few chords, making sure the guitar was properly tuned, before looking back up at her almost shyly.  He started playing the first few notes, and she watched him intently, already entranced.

 _“I'll be your man_ ,” he began quietly, almost hesitantly, and stopped.  Clearing his throat, he reached for his iced water, took a quick sip and started over.  “ _I’ll be your man,_  
_I'll understand_  
_Do my best to take good care of you_  
_Yes I will.”_

“You already do,” she told him in a whisper.

“Don’t interrupt,” he murmured back, smiling as he continued strumming his guitar. 

 _“You'll be my queen_ ,” he went on a little more confidently, smiling still.  
_“I'll be your king_  
_And I'll be your lover, too_  
_Yes, I will_

 _Derry down green_  
_Colour of my dream_  
_A dream that's daily coming true_

 _I'll tell you_  
_When day is through_  
_I will come to you_  
_And tell you of your many charms_

 _And you'll look at me_  
_With eyes that see_  
_And melt into each other's arms_

 _And so I come_  
_To be the one_  
_The one who's always standing next to you_

 _Umm, reach out for me_  
_So I may be_  
_The one who's always reaching out for you_  
_Yes I will, yes I will_

 _You'll be my queen_  
_I'll be your king_  
_And I'll be your lover, too.”_

“That was beautiful,” she exclaimed, tears in her eyes.  

“Not too corny then.”

She shook her head slowly, then standing leaned over and cupping his face with both hands kissed him on the mouth.  “I loved it, Jack; it really moved me.  Thank you.”  She kissed his lips again, and then as she pulled back from him, “Oh my God!”  She dropped her gaze and her hands to her stomach, then looked back up at him, astonished.  “Jack, I just felt a flutter.”

His eyes narrowed.  “A flutter?”

“In my tummy.  I think I just felt the baby move!”

“Yeah?” he said, his face lighting up with glee.

“Either that or I passed gas.  Again.”

He laughed.

“But this felt different.”  Looking down, she stroked her hand to her stomach longingly.  “Like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”  She looked back up.  “Like I was being tickled with a feather from the inside.  Oh, my God, Jack!” she exclaimed again, her excitement almost uncontainable.

Picking up his hand, she lifted up her T-shirt and pressed his hand to her abdomen.

“I can’t feel anything,” he said, chuckling.

“Me either,” she went on, after a beat waiting expectantly for another flutter.  “Maybe if you play again?”

Jack’s face lit up with a grin.  Not needing to be told twice, he began playing the song again, this time addressing it to the baby.  All the while, he kept his eyes on her stomach while she kept hers on him.  She didn’t feel the baby move again, but this first time was forever etched in her memory.

“Your meal is ready,” a gentle voice said, breaking the spell when he’d finished.  “Or would you rather we kept it warm for you?”

“No,” Ally said, drawing her gaze from her husband to the attendant.  “I’m starving.”

The flight attendant opened her hand, indicating a table set for two a little further down the plane, then once again discreetly departed.  Jack took his and Ally’s drinks to the table, and after she'd gone to the bathroom they sat down to eat.  The food was delicious, the chocolate dessert even more so, and Ally had no qualms about finishing both.  She put her spoon down before sitting back into her seat, replete.

“I got to pee,” Jackson said, wiping his mouth on the napkin as he got up. He smelled his armpit. “I’m going to…have a wash too.”

“Take your time.  I’m not going anywhere.”

The attendant came to clear the table and Ally moved back to the more comfortable leather armchair.  Reaching for the remote, she turned on the large flat screen television, propped her feet up on the opposite seat and before she could get to the opening credits of the film she’d selected promptly fell asleep.  The sound of a voice talking quietly woke her up, the flight attendant telling Jackson that they would soon be landing.  Ally stretched, then gave the pair a dreamy smile before sitting up fully and fastening her seat belt.

“Sorry,” she told Jackson.  “I didn’t mean to doze off.”

“It’s okay.  You've been rushed off your feet all summer.  You deserve a break.  This trip is a well-deserved few days off as much as it is to meet with your mother.”

A black car was waiting for them when the plane landed at Mansfield Lahm regional airport.  Their luggage was transferred and they were driven to the hotel in Mansfield itself, some three miles south of the airport, Ally had booked for them online.  It was a small, family-run hotel in an imposing red-brick building half-way down the high street, and although not luxurious it looked clean and well run and provided everything they needed, most of all anonymity.  How was it that a one-night stay was almost cheaper than a three-course meal at the place she used to work at?

“We have a room booked for three nights,” Jackson said, once he’d hauled their luggage inside the lobby.

The young receptionist consulted her diary.  “Mr and Mrs Campana?”

“That’s right,” Jackson replied, smiling widely as he gave Ally a long sideways look and a wink.

The receptionist took an old fashioned key off a hook on a board of numbered hooks and handed it over to him with a smile.  “Room 32.  It’s on the third floor.  Take a right when you come out of the elevator.”

“Thank you,” he said, passing the key over to Ally.

“You’re going to be okay with your bags?”

“Sure.  Thanks.”

“There’s a stand over there with leaflets and whatnots―if you plan on visiting the local area.  And breakfast is served between six and ten in the breakfast room just over there.”

“Thank you,” Ally said, almost excited at the fact that the receptionist had no idea who they were and was treating them like normal people.

“No room service?” Jackson mouthed to Ally, his face scrunched with disbelief as he bent down to pick up their bags.

Smiling, Ally grabbed the guitar case and they made their way to the elevator.

“You know, as nice as this is,” she said, when she stepped into the room, “And I’m enjoying the anonymity and all – it doesn’t qualify as a honeymoon.”

Dumping his load near the door, Jackson chuckled.  “I take your point,” he said, closing the door.

Smiling, she opened her arms and gently dropped backwards onto the bed before letting out a long breath of contentment.  Jackson climbed up, lying down on his front beside her.

“Sing us that song again,” she said, turning a soft smile toward him.

His face lighting up with pleasure, he slid his hand under her T-shirt, caressing over her bump before raising the garment up to her breasts, uncovering her stomach.  With a hesitant glance at her face, he began humming the tune before singing the words in a whisper, his mouth so close to her stomach that she could feel his warm breaths vibrating on her skin.  Her hands stroking the back of his head, she closed her eyes and concentrated her senses on his ministrations.  Their lovemaking that evening was as soft and melodic as his singing.

\--

The cab stopped outside a four-storey grey-brick building that had seen better days in downtown Loudonville, twenty miles south-east of Mansfield.  “You’re sure that’s the right address?” Jackson asked, bending down to take a better look at the building through the car window.

“I’m sure.”

He and Ally shared a look, then Jackson reached for his wallet and took out a wad of bills.  He counted five, added another one to cover the tip, saying as he handed the money over, “Can you wait?”

“Sure,” the driver said, grinning as he pocketed the money. 

Jackson met Ally’s gaze.  “You ready?”

She gave a tight nod.  Jackson opened his car door, took her hand and gathering her purse she followed him out.  Pausing, she looked up at the apartment building and scanned her eyes over each window, wondering which one housed her mother.

“We can always turn back,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze.

“No.  It’s okay.  I’m okay.”  She tried a smile.  “We’ve got this far.”

Jackson gave a nod, then tightening his hold on her hand walked up the few steps to the front door.  To the left was a two-way intercom system and Ally slowly pressed her finger to the one marked 3D.  When they got no reply, Ally pressed the button a second time.

“She’s not home,” she said. 

“Maybe she’s at work.”

“The PI didn’t find a place of work for her.”

“Doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a job.  Or the door phone doesn’t work.”

Ally paused.  “So what do we do?”

Jackson looked over his shoulder at the taxi waiting at the curb.  “We wait,” he said.  Dropping her hand, he covered the distance to the driver and told him not to bother waiting, that they could be a while.  After giving Jack his card, the taxi drove off and Jack joined Ally’s side again.  He was about to try the intercom again when movement behind the plate glass door caught their attention.  The door opened and an old man came out.  Jackson jumped, catching the door before it could shut again. 

“Come on,” he told Ally, his eyes scanning the street up ahead, “Let’s wait inside.  Out of the way.”

The lobby was shabby, the lino flooring cracked and sticky underfoot, the walls in need of a lick of paint.  Before she knew what was happening, Jackson had called for the elevator and they were stepping in.  They disembarked on the third floor and located apartment 3D at the end of a dark corridor.  Ally lifted her hand to knock on the door but then lowered it hesitantly. 

“What’s the point,” she asked, “if she’s not in?”

“Like I said, maybe the door phone is out of order.”

She looked over at Jackson who gave her an encouraging smile and she raised her hand again, this time making contact with the wood.  They heard movement inside.  The security chain was slid on, the lock turned before the door opened a crack and a young girl of about twenty looked out through the gap.  The PI hadn’t mentioned that Shirley had remarried or had any more children and Ally had a moment of doubt they had the right address.

She glanced at Jack uncertainly.  “Hi.  We’re looking for Shirley?  Shirley Campana?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to come, I think, and then the epilogue. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and all the support and encouragement I've received for the story over the last nine months. It’s been quite overwhelming. :)

**Author's Note:**

> I've borrowed the title from a Martin Luther King Jr quote, so just like the film and the characters, it is not mine.
> 
> Comments are loved and a great source of encouragement and inspiration, so please leave one! :)  
> 


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